


Favours Owed

by MintSauce



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Major Character Death is not Ian or Mickey, no doubt there are other characters I cba list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSauce/pseuds/MintSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When most people die, they leave their family money or a house. But not Mandy. Mickey/Ian Multi-chap fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mickey was drunk when they rang him, because he spent a lot of time drunk nowadays. It helped numb the pain in his chest and burn away the thoughts in his head. It stopped him feeling anything, because Mickey was done feeling things. He just wanted to be numb.

He blamed the alcohol for why he cried when they rang him.

_"I'm sorry Mr Milkovich, but it's about your sister," the woman on the other end of the phone said and Mickey rubbed his eyes and scowled at the bar top, wondering what the fuck Mandy had gotten herself into now, "She overdosed at her home last night."_

_If Mickey hadn't felt numb from the alcohol, he had done then._

_"Oh. . ." he didn't know what else to say, couldn't say anything else past the clog in his throat._

_"Yes, I'm sorry for your loss Mr Milkovich, but I have some other news for you," the woman said and Mickey had to concentrate hard to hear her words, he was starting to switch off, "You're sister left her daughter in your care."_

And that was why Mickey was sitting in his old living room after the funeral, in a house that was completely empty now that Mandy had gone. He was staring at a two-week-old baby in a stupid pink jumpsuit thing and wondering when the hell his life had done a number on him. It was all because of a stupid note he hadn't had the heart to throw away.  _Give her to Mickey, tell him he fucking owes me_.

That was all it had taken for social services to hand the baby over to him. Mandy's final wishes. They didn't give a shit about that, they just didn't want to spent the money trying to track down someone to take her. But Mandy was right, Mickey did fucking owe her, so he'd just nodded and signed the papers and now he had a fucking baby that he didn't know jack shit about.

Nobody knew who the father was, Mickey didn't even know Mandy had been pregnant. But then, he hadn't been back to Chicago since he'd run from it. They'd said the kid was called Lilly, which had made Mickey laugh. They didn't understand why, but that was because they didn't have the image of that fucking doll Mandy had adored in their mind.

Mickey held the ragged thing now, thought how stupid it looked with one eye missing. It was just some little stuffed toy, in a dress Mandy had found somewhere and probably the dirtiest fucking Mickey had ever held, which was saying something. He'd found it under Mandy's bed. He remembered giving it to her after he'd stolen it from some stupid charity shop place. It had been the first thing he'd ever really stolen, he'd been six, she'd been four, she'd loved it. That had made Mickey happy for a ridiculously faggy reason.

It amused him that Mandy had finally managed to pop out her own Lilly, a real live breathing one and she wasn't around to play with it. He didn't know if they overdose had been intentional, but they were guessing it was with the whole note thing and everything. That made him fucking hate his sister for offing herself at twenty and lumping him with this responsibility at twenty two, but it wasn't like he could fucking argue with her now and he did owe her, she was right about that.

The house was full of baby stuff, things that he didn't know what the fuck they did. He supposed that was a blessing, because he didn't have the money to buy any of the shit. He didn't know where Mandy had gotten it either.

"Just for the record, you're going to end up fucked up," Mickey told the baby, because he felt like he should forewarn it or something. Mickey wasn't cut out to be a father, had never planned on it, had never wanted it. But here he was. "Suppose you're better off with me than one of those other fucktards though."

He was sure he wasn't supposed to be swearing at a baby, but oh well.

It made this stupid sound and waved its hands in the air and he scowled slightly because he didn't know if that was supposed to mean something. "So what the hell do I do with you now?" he asked, like it could fucking talk or something.

The feeding part wasn't too hard, even though sterilising the bottles was a bitch and the formula fucking stank, but all he had to do was follow instructions. And it wasn't like the kid refused the horrible stuff for even a second, just guzzled it down like there was no tomorrow. Although, she was a Milkovich, so it was probably instinct to eat whatever the fuck you could when you could.

Mickey used Mandy's laptop – he supposed it wasn't Mandy's anymore – to Google what the fuck to do with newborns. And it was confusing, but he did sort of understand that he had to burp her or some shit otherwise she'd get pissy. The kid didn't burp, she fucking belched. But again, she was a Milkovich.

"I hate you," Mickey said, hoping Mandy could hear him and the baby started crying, "Shit, not you, I didn't mean you." He gingerly picked her up and did this sort of bouncing thing to try and get her to shut up.

She was all red in the face and ugly, but he thought she'd probably been kind of cute before actually. She didn't stop crying. She screamed until she was out of breath, until Mickey didn't know whether he wanted to cave her head in or his own.

It was because he was stupid that it took him an hour and a half of screaming until he realised that the smell wasn't just the fucking house. "Now I do mean it, I hate you too," he said, glaring at her as he gingerly changed her diaper. He thought he was going to retch, because it was actually the single most fucking disgusting thing he had ever done.

He pulled faces while he wiped her clean and cursed Mandy under his breath the entire time. He went through three diapers trying to get them on right – the second one he sort of ripped up in frustration – and then held commanded her to stay the fuck where she was on the floor while he got rid of the fucking smell. He made a mental note to get some air fresheners or some shit like that as he ran the defiled diaper down to the bins outside.

Lilly was asleep when he came back and he figured she actually had the right fucking idea there, so probably being more gentle than he had ever been in his life, he transferred her to the fugly looking crib and collapsed onto the couch.

He was out like a light before his head even hit the arm.

He was woken up by a screaming fucking baby.


	2. Chapter 2

The things that Mickey discovered while looking after Mandy's goddamn baby was that:

They don't do a hell of a lot.

They eat a lot.

They smell a lot.

They don't sleep often fucking enough.

And they're bloody expensive.

Because Mickey was a model citizen and all that, he stole most of the clean shit that he needed for the kid, just getting replacements for the stuff that was already in the house. He Googled more about the baby than he ever had done anything else, porn included and it confused him because people seemed to have different opinions and then Lilly didn't do some stuff. Like one website said that babies like to throw up what they ate, but Lilly never threw up unless Mickey span around in a circle while holding her – because he was fucking random like that and wanted to see what it would do.

She was definitely a Milkovich in that she liked to hang on to her food, although had no fucking problem shitting it out. The worst part though was that Mickey was actually starting to get attached to the kid. He was starting to learn which faces were,  _I need food_ , which faces were,  _I just shit myself_  and which ones were,  _I'm just crying to piss you off_.

Mickey blamed it on some sort of blood connection that they shared or some bullshit like that. It wasn't because Mickey actually did have a soul, or because the kid was actually pretty damn cute. Especially when she was asleep and gormless looking with her mouth open.

She had really soft, tufts of brown hair on her head and Mandy's blue eyes and he thought maybe she looked like Mandy, but he wasn't sure. He found she shut up if he put music on, or the TV, so they started a habit of him falling asleep with her lying flat on his chest. He supposed it didn't matter if he kept on doing it, even if it was stupid, because it wasn't like there was anyone around to see him being soft.

Mickey decided after a month or so, when Lilly started fucking growing so that he could notice it, which oddly he hadn't bargained for, that he had to find a job. He refused to lose a limb at the meat packing plant and didn't have anywhere to fucking leave Lilly, so that was how he wound up at the Kash and Grab.

It turned out that Kash was back, but Mickey just ignored him when he scowled and asked where the fuck Linda was. Kash was so stupid that he didn't even notice the fact Mickey had a baby with him.

He didn't like being in there at the same time as Kash, because it was where he'd gotten shot and because it reminded him of Ian and really just because, but even Mickey knew he couldn't steal the shit he needed forever.

"I need a job," Mickey said bluntly when Linda finally appeared downstairs, because like fuck was he asking Kash.

"Why?" she frowned at him, frowned at the baby to, because Linda actually had half a brain.

"Because Mandy died and I have to look after her fucking baby and I need a job at a place where I can bring her with me," he said simply, "Figured she could go behind the counter or some shit." He rubbed a finger across his bottom lip and turned the carrier slightly so that Lilly's big blue eyes would be visible.

He knew women kind of loved babies, so he was hoping that it would work.

It did, even though Linda was a cold bitch, it worked.

"I heard about Mandy, I'm sorry," she said, crouching down in front of Lilly and touching her cheek with a finger, "What's her name?"

Mickey didn't say anything about Mandy because he didn't want to. "Lilly," he said, smirking at Kash when he saw the guy's eyes narrowing out of the corner of his eye, "So can I have the fucking job or not?"

"Well she's definitely going to grow up with a colourful vocabulary," Linda muttered, "And you can have the job, but I swear to God if you even think about pulling any crap like last time, I will personally remove your bollocks with a spoon." Because this woman wasn't passive aggressive at all. "You know how to work the till?"

"I can learn," he said, because he wasn't fucking stupid.

At the moment he felt that if he could change a diaper, he could do anything.

"Good," she said, smiling at the baby again, "Come pick your hours up tomorrow morning, you can start then as well."

He nodded and she left, obviously not having any desire to run this by her husband. Were they even married still? Mickey didn't know, he didn't particularly care. He just knew he hated Kash and he loved the fact this was pissing him off.

"Who was stupid enough to leave you with a kid?" Kash asked, scowling at him and probably imagining some really colourful ways he could kill Mickey.

"My dead sister," he said, "And you even think about trying to piss me off, you might just get the chance to tell her how fucked up her decision is." With that he left, because just like Linda, he didn't really have any desire to talk to Kash about anything. He didn't want the guy breathing on Lilly either; because Mickey was getting stupidly protective like that.

People who knew him looked at him strangely as he walked back to his house, baby carrier looped over one arm. But Mickey was badass enough not to give a shit what they thought. They probably all thought it was his, maybe she was now. She was on paper anyway.

"Meet the fucked up neighbourhood," he said to Lilly bitterly, feeling a little sorry for the kid about having to grow up around here, but Mickey couldn't exactly to afford to piss off anywhere else and the place he had been staying wasn't really a place you'd want to raise a kid either.

At least in Chicago he got to live in the house that his father had owned.  _Owned_  being the operative word.

The old man had dropped off the face of the earth a long time ago and nobody had batted an eyelid because Terry Milkovich was like that; the house had essentially been Mandy's and now it was Mickey's. Mickey wasn't the sort to pass up an opportunity like that, even if the place did make him scowl every time he walked through the door.

It hadn't really changed since he'd lived there last, but then it had only been a few years, not all that long if he thought about it. Mickey had left when he was eighteen, just after he'd gotten out of Juvie that second time. He hadn't looked back, but now here he was anyway.

He stopped for a minute to fix the stupid little had that she had on her head, even though it wasn't really that cold. Mickey just didn't want to risk it, because he knew an unhealthy baby would scream more than a healthy one and she screamed enough already.

They sat on a wall just because it had been too long since Mickey had been out of the house for any length of time, so he sat her beside him in her carrier and smoked two cigarettes, one after the other. He knew you weren't really supposed to smoke around babies, but he blew the smoke in a different direction so it couldn't be that bad. He wondered if Mandy had quit while she'd been pregnant.

He doubted it.

"Just so you know, even if you are a girl, you're still gonna have to learn to fucking fight," Mickey told her, flicking away the end of his cigarette, "I ain't having you dragging down the family name." He said that bitterly, sarcastically because he didn't even think that was possible.

Lilly slept on his chest again that night and Mickey wondered if the kid was listening to his heartbeat, he wondered if she could even hear it. Sometimes people asked him if he even had a heart in his chest, he supposed that he had to have something in there if he was looking after the kid.

But then, he did owe Mandy.

He used that as his excuse most of the time for why he was doing this, but he knew it wasn't really true. Not completely. He  _wanted_  to do this as well, because he wasn't letting the only part of his sister that existed be bumped around fucking foster homes. No, Mickey would look after her. Albeit it probably quite badly, but he'd still try.

He had to get her some new clothes the next week, he used the first wages he'd gotten from Linda to pay for them. He just got some more of the weird ass jumpsuit things, or maybe they were called all in one's, he couldn't remember. He didn't particularly care.

All he knew was that he felt like an idiot walking through the fucking shop trying to find shit to fit the baby. A woman had come over trying to be helpful, asked him what he was looking for and he said something to dress the kid in. She'd glared at him when he'd faltered at the question of how old she was.

All of the stuff had the label  _newborn_  on and so Mickey logically went with the next size up for the stuff, which when he sort of held it against her looked like it would fit. If it was too big, he figured oh well, fuck it, she'd grow. He discovered then that baby shit was expensive, so he didn't really buy a lot. He just got some more of those retarded all in one things, the cheapest ones he could find and that weren't pink because he decided that the colour offended him. He didn't give a shit if Lilly was a girl or not, he didn't like the colour pink.

It had connotations with being gay and Mickey hated the stereotype, so that meant no pink.

He got these creamy coloured ones with a bears on that he didn't think looked too retarded, not that it mattered too much since she wasn't exactly going to be seen by too many fucking people. Still, if she looked stupid he'd only hate it, so he got ones that didn't offend him too much.

He thought about dressing her in boys shit for all of half a second before he decided that no, the kid was already going to grow up with a complex, he didn't want to make it worse.

She was almost two months old by his maths, he had her birthday written down on a calendar somewhere and he Googled 'baby milestones' so he'd know whether or not she was doing the shit she was supposed to be doing. He found out from that that she was supposed to start smiling soon, so just because he had nothing better to do, he started trying to make her.

All she ever did was gurgle and making fucking retarded noises and faces.

Sort of like him as he tried to make her smile actually.

Mickey started to think when he managed to change a diaper faster than he ever had before, with a cigarette trapped between his lips as well to make his achievement even better – or maybe worse – that he was starting to get the hang of this whole baby thing. He still wouldn't call himself a caring person, especially not given how many people he threatened to gut for shoplifting at the Kash and Grab, but he thought maybe it wasn't so bad if he liked his own relative.

After all, it wasn't like she'd done anything to him.

"That's an adorable baby," a little old lady who he didn't know and who didn't know him smiled at him when she paid for her shit. He had his feet up on the counter, Lilly lying back against his thighs, grabbing at his fingers.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking her money and grimacing at the awkward way he had to twist to do so. He kept a hand on Lilly's stomach to make sure that she didn't fall off his legs.

The woman leant in and touched Lilly's other hand, because apparently babies were public property and anyone was allowed to coo over them and touch their hands and say how cute they were and shit.

"She looks like you," the old woman said and that made Mickey frown.

When she'd left, he picked Lilly up and held her in front of his face. "Do you look like me?" he asked her, because he was still under the impression that she could actually respond. He supposed it was possible that she could look like him. He did sort of look like Mandy and Mandy was the kid's mother.

Lilly grabbed at his nose and he jerked his head back out of her reach. She gurgled and finally cracked a smile. Mickey snorted, because it was just typical that she'd do it when he didn't try and get her to.


	3. Chapter 3

Ian hadn't been able to come home when Mandy had died, even though he'd wanted to. Lip had told him in one of those rare phone calls, it was an overdose. Mandy had killed herself. He hated himself for not being surprised, but then he'd always known she was depressed. He hadn't known why though.

When he got leave to come home for a week and the first thing he did when Lip picked him up from the airport was visit Mandy's grave. It was a crappy sort of headstone, simple, but he still cried like a fucking baby when he saw it.

He supposed that was all that mattered.

"What about the baby?" he asked when they'd gotten back into the car and were driving home.

His tears felt like they had frozen to his cheeks, the icy tracks stinging his skin. But he didn't wipe them away.

Lip frowned at him, "What baby?"

He had actually thought Mandy had been kidding when she said that nobody really knew about her pregnancy. He had thought that people would have to find out eventually. "She had a baby," he said, sad now because he didn't like the idea of Mandy's kid being somewhere out in the world, being bumped from foster home to foster home. Or maybe she'd been lucky and gotten adopted. "Her name was Lilly."

Lip shrugged, "Sorry, mate, haven't heard anything about a baby."

Ian chewed the side of his thumb for a minute as he stared out the window. He couldn't stop thinking about that baby, about Mandy, about how fucked up all of this was.

"Mickey's back though," Lip said, trying to sound casual, not even looking at Ian when he spoke, "Did manage to hear that through the grapevine, apparently he's been sticking around since Mandy's death."

That surprised him, but it made him feel guilty because Ian hadn't thought about Mickey. He'd sort of pushed the guy from his mind. He hadn't seen him since he'd gone to Juvie, had never visited him and had never heard from him after he'd gotten out. If he ever had that was, knowing Mickey he was probably still in there rotting.

Well, that was what he had thought. Apparently he wasn't.

"They were the closest out of all of them," he said, because he knew Lip was expecting him to say something.

He wondered if Mickey knew about the baby. Even if he did, he probably didn't give a shit. Mickey didn't like kids, he'd always scowled at them when they'd come into the Kash and Grab, no matter what the age. It was like they had all offended him or something.

"I'd feel sorry for him if he wasn't a dick," Lip commented.

"I feel sorry for him anyway," Ian replied, because it was the truth. He couldn't deny that. Mickey was probably just sitting in his father's old house getting pissed out of his skull, so that he didn't even know he was supposed to grieve


	4. Chapter 4

It was pissing Mickey off. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a drink.

It wasn't that he was trying to be a good person or a good parent or guardian or whatever the fuck he was to Lilly. It was just that he quite simply didn't have the time. He was either looking after Lilly, working or sleeping. It really was as simple as that.

But it was still pissing him off.

He finally had a drink when his brother Joey had decided to stop by. He was probably looking for their Dad, not knowing that he wouldn't find him, but Mickey wasn't going to tell him that. "What the fuck's with the baby?" Joey asked when he walked into the house, stinking of meth and frowning.

"She's Mandy's," Mickey said, wary because he didn't want to seem like he really didn't want Joey near the baby. He was getting stupid like that, maybe it was parenthood. Maybe it was because Mickey felt like he needed something to care about nowadays and the kid was the only one who hadn't ever really done anything to piss him off.

"Where the fuck is she then if it's hers?" Joey asked and Mickey realised he didn't know.

Maybe none of them knew, none of them had turned up to the funeral other than Mickey though anyway.

"She died," Mickey said bluntly.

"Oh," Joey replied, "Shame."

He didn't really seem to care. Maybe it was the meth. Mickey didn't know, but he punched him in the face for it anyway and Joey left pretty quickly after that.

Mickey had three beers, only three, nothing to make him too drunk to sleep through Lilly screaming in the middle of the night or anything like that, but enough to get a nice buzz going. He drank because he wanted to, but also because he wanted to try and kill the memory of belonging to this shitty family. He drank because he felt bad that Lilly had to belong to it too.

That was the night that Lilly laughed for the first time. It was when Mickey walked into a wall. He thought that was fucking typical, just like her first smile. But he supposed it was sort of funny, he would have laughed if his head hadn't hurt. The kid was definitely a Milkovich that much was clear, she knew to laugh at other people's misfortune.

Mickey made sure to wash the blood off his knuckles and the smell of alcohol off his breath before he picked Lilly up so that she could sleep on his chest. He didn't know why he bothered though, she wouldn't have cared.

He found it sort of funny that Lilly actually bathed more than Mickey did. Especially since he kind of hated having to bath her, because she cried and splashed about and pulled fucking stupid faces. But he didn't want her to get ill, because then she'd only cry more, so he made sure to wash her pretty regularly.

He actually decided they were probably a little bit too close, since he spent more time with Lilly than he had ever spent with anyone before in his life. He got paranoid about stuff, about leaving her in a room without him there. When he had to take the trash out, he practically sprinted there and back. When he showered – which wasn't very often admittedly – he didn't like the idea of not being able to hear anything over the running water, so he sat her in the room with him, in her carrier, whether or not she was asleep.

He moved her crib into his room for those rare times that they didn't both fall asleep on the couch and he wondered if he had attachment problems. Mickey had never really had anything that was his before, but it said on paper that Lilly was his, so maybe that was the problem. Mickey wasn't used to caring for something, he wasn't used to giving a shit or to being responsible, it was a new feeling. He hadn't even decided yet whether or not he hated it. He supposed it was only reasonable that he got paranoid about protecting the one thing he had that was finally his.

To Mickey, that made sense.

But it still didn't mean he was a good person, it just meant he looked after his own.

"Hey Mick, you want me to look after Lilly while you're on your shift?" Linda asked, holding one of her own squirming brats on her hip.

Mickey scowled, but said yes because he sort of wanted to try and nip this whole attachment issue thing in the bud. He wanted to be able to let go, he didn't want to be a complete sap. And Lilly would only be upstairs, so it wasn't like it was a big fucking deal or anything. He sort of trusted Linda anyway.

"If I find out Kash's been near her, I'll gut him," he warned nevertheless and Linda just smirked.

Mickey thought she would probably like that to happen.

He started fidgeting when there was no one in the store, glancing towards the ceiling and chewing on his bottom lip and afterwards he didn't know if that was some sort of creepy premonition or just his attachment issues kicking in. He didn't particularly want to find out the answer if he was being completely honest.

When he walked into the Kash and Grab, Mickey sort of did a double take and to be honest, Ian seemed to do one too. He'd grown, which was stupid because the kid was already too fucking tall as it was. He'd also bulked up even more and the muscles that Mickey could see on display even through the layers the redhead was wearing made his mouth water. His hair was still short and his freckles had darkened slightly.

They stared at each other for a long minute and Ian was the first one to look away. Mickey wanted to, but he just couldn't. He watched as Ian walked down one of the isles and picked up some stuff, mainly crap like Pringles and Coke. Mickey took an automatic bite out of the sandwich he had underneath the counter. He didn't eat very often anymore, he forgot to and he wondered if it showed. He wondered what Ian thought when he came to stand in front of the counter.

Mickey added up the total and made sure not to touch Ian's skin when he took his money. Neither of them had actually said anything yet. He knew before Ian even spoke what the first thing the redhead was going to say was.

"I'm sorry about Mandy."

There were tears starting to appear in Ian's eyes even as he spoke, and Mickey felt good that he wasn't the only one who cried at the news of Mandy's death. He didn't cry anymore, he was too busy with all the sleepless nights and cursing her name for that being her fault to cry.

"Yeah," he said, because he didn't have anything else to really say. His brain had shut down.

Ian looked like he really wanted to ask Mickey something, like something had been bugging him and Mickey wished he'd just spit it out, but in the end he didn't. "I was sorry I couldn't be back for the funeral," he said, obviously trying to make conversation and try to chase away the awkwardness that was settling in the air.

They hadn't seen him since Mickey had walked off to kill Frank. Right in this very store. It seemed like a lifetime away.

"Well, kind of figured you were off getting your ass shot at," he replied, because he had to answer. He didn't think it would be appropriate to say that he didn't need Ian's excuses, that enough Gallaghers had turned up to make up for his absence. But that Mickey had noticed it anyway.

"Yeah," Ian said and he sounded almost sad about that, which Mickey thought was stupid, "I made it into WestPoint in the end."

Mickey didn't smile, even though he sort of wanted to, to show he was happy that Ian had achieved his dream. "Cool," he breathed out instead, "You an officer now then?"

The redhead nodded. "Why are you working here again?" he asked, obviously wanting to change the subject even though Mickey didn't know why.

He shrugged, "Needed the money."

He didn't want to explain about Lilly, didn't want Ian to pity him or think he wasn't good enough. He already knew he wasn't good enough, but stupidly, it was Ian's opinion he actually cared for and he didn't want to hear a negative one.

Ian probably thought he needed the money for drugs, he wouldn't understand a Mickey that actually cared. Nobody would. Well, maybe Ian would actually. He'd always seen something in Mickey that was worth smiling at. But Mickey didn't want to risk it, he didn't want to risk the sneer or that look of blind disbelief. Or maybe it would be horror.

"When you going back?" Mickey asked, even though he didn't really know why. It wasn't his business, he was just making conversation.

He dug his nails into his palms and used the small hurt to help ground himself.

"Two days," Ian said, rubbing the back of his neck, "We're having a big family meal thing tonight, but it just makes me wish Mandy was there." He blushed a little, the splash of red on his cheeks making Mickey's cock twitch despite the subject.

"Try not to die then," Mickey said.

Ian half smiled, "I'll try."

That night Mickey curled around Lilly as she slept, putting himself between her and the edge of the bed. He stared at her in the darkness, watched the steady rise and fall of her chest and decided that this time, he wasn't going to lose the only thing that smiled that him for no reason. Not like he'd lost Gallagher.

No, Lilly was his and she was going to stay that way.


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange seeing him again. He looked tired and it made Ian wonder if that was because of Mandy's death, because normally Mickey slept more than had been humanly possible. He'd never normally looked tired. He hadn't done enough to get tired. Unless it was after sex. He still looked good, didn't really seem to have changed at all, except for the tired thing.

Ian wanted to ask about the baby, wanted to see if Mickey knew what had happened to it. To her, to Lilly, but he didn't have the courage. He knew Mickey wouldn't give a shit. He knew Mickey would just laugh at him for caring, for asking. And he wanted to believe that maybe Mickey did have a soul, so he didn't ask because he didn't want to get that reaction.

He didn't enjoy his early goodbye meal as much as he was supposed to, even when it turned into a party. They all thought it was because he was sad about Mandy or about going back and he let them think that, because it was the most logical thing he should have been thinking about. He shouldn't have been thinking about Mickey again, not after everything that had happened, not after he'd tried to force him from his mind and his memories.

He shouldn't have been worrying that Mickey was tired, that he maybe wasn't coping with Mandy's death as well as he was pretending to. He couldn't stop himself wondering why Mickey was sticking around, he wondered what was keeping him here.

He couldn't stop wondering what Mickey had been doing in the years since he'd gone to Juvie and obviously gotten out of it. He wondered if he was still lying about being gay, if he was still terrified of Terry Milkovich even if the man did seem to have done a runner. He couldn't stop thinking about Mickey.

But worst of all, he couldn't stop the memories of Mickey's flesh under his, the sound he made when he was coming, the way he smiled ever so slightly in his sleep.

_"Try not to die then."_

Ian wished he could imagine some sort of other meaning behind that statement, he wished that he could imagine emotions in Mickey's eyes that had sometimes used to be there. But when he tried to think whether or not there had been any there, all he could see was the tiredness that had seemed deep rooted into Mickey's being.


	6. Chapter 6

When Lilly started sleeping all the way through the nights, Mickey started eating better and looking less like a pile of shit. When she did her first mini push-up, Mickey started working out and she laughed at him when he collapsed in a boneless heap on the sofa. He went through Mandy's room one day, but didn't really get rid of anything like he had been intending to. He just sort of tidied it up.

In one of his really gay moments, he took a poster down off his wall and stuck up a picture of Mandy next to one he took of Lilly. He played spot the similarities when he woke up in the middle of the night expecting to hear Lilly's cry, but instead being met with a quiet sort of snuffle as she slept.

Kash left again and Mickey sort of wanted to apologise because he knew it was most likely because of his presence; but Linda didn't actually seem to give a shit, so he swallowed the words that probably would have come out wrong anyway. Kash's absence meant he got more work hours, which meant more money, which was a good thing, so all in all, he was happy that Kash had fucked off.

He washed the doll that had been Mandy's and held it out to Lilly one morning. She cried and actually sort of bitch-slapped it; he decided that was something he was going to have to work on. Not the slapping, although she would have to learn that punching was more effective, but the liking of the doll. She would like the stupid thing even if he had to force her to, he'd already decided.

Mickey read that at four months, babies are supposed to start grasping at toys, but all Lilly did was discover that if she pulled on Mickey's hair, he'd make faces that she found amusing. Then it became even more important to make her love the doll, because Mickey had a horrible feeling she was actually pulling some of the hairs  _out_.

Since she could grab things, Mickey felt it was overdue when he cleaned up the house a bit. He didn't really baby proof it, because six kids had already been raised in this house and they hadn't ever been seriously injured by anything in it. But still, Mickey got rid of the beer cans that had been lying around for as long as he could remember, he threw out clothes that were his Dad's, random crap belonging to his brothers that if they ever came back they would have forgotten they even owned. He didn't hoover or anything stupid like that, but he did wash the dishes and hang an air freshener from the ceiling to try and get rid of the smell of pot that had been there forever.

It felt weird standing in the house then, because it looked different. He built himself up a buzz from beer again and sort of missed the days when relaxing had meant getting high, or getting smashed or getting Ian Gallagher to fuck him in the dugouts.

That was the one thing that he couldn't let go of.  _Ian Gallagher._ It was like the redhead had burrowed in under his skin. Mickey couldn't forget him even though he wanted to. He knew it would be easier if he didn't think about him, didn't worry about whether or not he was getting his ass shot off and didn't wonder when he was next coming back. Because Mickey wasn't supposed to give a shit about stuff like that, he wasn't supposed to care about some stupid boy and he definitely wasn't supposed to desperately cling to the memory of his shit-eating grin.

"You really do have a cranky, Daddy."

Linda's voice made him jump and scowl as he also fell of his chair. His scowl turned into a frown at the title and Linda noticed. Because of course nothing got past her. She was fucking scary sometimes. . . most of the time. . . always.

"Mickey, you're her Dad, get over it," she said bluntly and Mickey knew better than to argue.

He didn't particularly want to argue either. Plenty of people in this world were fathers to people who weren't even technically theirs. And Mickey was Lilly's blood. He was the only person she really had, even though Linda was being freakishly nice to him where the baby was concerned. He thought maybe it was that the title of 'Dad' gave him less room to fuck up. And Mickey was terrified of fucking up. He had a shitty father, most people he knew had a shitty father, so if he claimed to be one, what would make him any different?

That night, Linda conned him into babysitting with the promise of a free meal and a raise. He had to cook the meal himself, but that was okay and he did get that raise in the end, so that was good too. But her kids were little shits. It did sort of help that they were scared of Mickey, but they were still annoying because they talked too much and complained about having to go to bed until he threatened them with bodily harm.

He decided that actually, he hated kids. He just liked Lilly.

-000-

When Lilly started crawling, shit started going south.

Because it was when she started crawling that she decided she was going to be an accident prone child. She liked to think she could crawl  _through_  objects and apparently, in her mind, the faster you went, the more likely it was that you'd pass through the wall, or the chair or Mickey.

When she could pull herself up onto things, she thought it would be funny to then dive bomb off of them again. Mickey ended up buying beanbags and putting them all around the sofa, just because then she would at least have a soft landing.

When she started walking, she thought she could pass through things again. That was until she discovered that if she ran at the backs of Mickey's knees, he would be the one that hit the floor. She found it rather funny the time he knocked himself out when his head hit the floor. He was strangely proud of her for that one actually, because he was fucked in the head like that. Probably even more so from the fall.

Mickey ended up having the baby proof the house to avoid trapped fingers or broken plates as they were pulled out of the cupboards. She also discovered that when Mickey told her not to do something, it was usually funnier to do it. She liked to throw things, namely at people's heads, which made going shopping with her probably one of the funniest activities Mickey had ever done. She threw up on anything pink, which Mickey was pleased about and she'd successfully mastered the scowl before children probably should; his next task was to teach her to smirk.

She called him Dad and he loved that, but wouldn't admit it.

Her first birthday was just the two of them, because nobody else other than Linda really knew about Lilly. He'd been successful in hiding her away from the world, even though to discover her existence you only really had to step foot inside the Kash and Grab. Linda bought her a present, which even though it was only giant markers, Mickey was oddly touched over. Mickey got several things, but she liked the golf balls best, because they made the best projectiles.

Linda didn't think he was a good influence, but Mickey just saw it as teaching her to be a Milkovich. If he had to suffer through being one, she could as well. Besides, it was fucking amusing watching her do things other people couldn't get away with, all because she was a child.

She liked water, but hated bubbles and liked the rare – really stupidly gay and sappy – occasions when Mickey would get in with her and let her put shampoo in his hair and make it stick up in stupid directions.

The one time he tried to get her to eat peas, she spat them at him and thought that was hilarious as well.

She moved into Mandy's room when she was about one and a half, which was also the day she decided she liked the doll Lilly after all. She still came to work with him every day, sometimes being upstairs with Linda or sitting with him behind the counter and scribbling on stuff aimlessly. Linda didn't care because she was cute enough that she attracted customers for some fucked up reason.

Mickey let her hair grow, because he liked to touch it when she hugged him, liked how it made her look like Mandy. Because she looked so much like Mandy sometimes that it was unnatural, but people said that she looked like Mickey too, so he supposed that made up for it. She mastered the glare and mastered the efficient use of the word no. She also thought it was funny when Mickey made threats and hilarious when he punched someone in the face.

She didn't think the bloody nose he'd gotten once was very funny though.

When she turned two, Mickey bought a fish because he figured it was the one pet that even he could sufficiently care for. He thought it was kind of cute that the one time Lilly was completely silent was when she was staring into that fishbowl. He never could work out whether she was staring at her stretched face or the actual fish though.

Everything had been pretty simple until Lilly turned two. That was when things started to get complicated and Mickey didn't really like complicated all that much. Complicated pissed him off and complicated ruined the routine he'd built up over the last two years.

Ian Gallagher was complicated.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the roadside bomb hit his car, Ian was actually pretty ready to go home. He didn't like thinking that because he hadn't really been in the army all that long, he was only twenty three, the army was supposed to be for life, not a handful of years. But Ian still wanted to go home and the moment he thought that, the roadside bomb hit.

Most of the people in the car weren't so lucky, they got limbs blown off or they died. But Ian just got a chunk of metal in his shoulder and it hurt like a bitch, but he was alive. They sent him home after he had to have an operation to remove it and they said that it would leave an ugly scar, but he was otherwise fine.

It had been almost a year and a half since he'd been home, but nothing had really changed. Sure, Fiona had gotten pregnant, but that had sort of been expected and it didn't really affect a hell of a lot. Lip was still a genius, Debbie was still sweet and Carl was still more than a little bit sociopathic.

And Ian still couldn't stop thinking about Mickey, which was stupid.

Lip thought he was still working at the Kash and Grab, maybe, possibly, but none of them actually shopped there so he didn't know for sure. The army was finished with Ian, which he was sort of glad about. It was because the nerves in his arm were kind of screwed and it shook a little, making it impossible for him to work a gun. He pretended to be upset about that, but he wasn't really.

He was glad he got to stay at home, he just didn't know what he wanted to do anymore. The army had always been his plan, it had always been his dream, but now he was looking at so many other options. He could go to college, he could lie about on the sofa all day. He could have done a lot of things, but instead he chose to track down Mickey.

And the best way to do that, was to get his old job back.

Linda was the one working when he stopped by, which was unusual, but then not completely unheard of. She smiled when she saw him and came around to hug him, which he hadn't been expecting. As far as he was aware, Linda still saw him as the guy who'd been fucking her husband. He wondered if Kash was still around.

"You back on leave?" she asked, settling back behind the counter.

He shook his head, "Nah I'm out, got injured." He lifted his arm and showed her the slight shaking in his hand, "Nothing serious though."

She looked relieved, which he hadn't been expecting either. "You here for a job then?" she asked, because Linda could be creepy like that and had mind reading skills or something. He nodded. "Mickey'll probably throw a paddy, but he can work security or something like you two always used to do."

Ian hadn't thought it would be that easy, but he was relieved that it was.

He opened his mouth to thank her when the phone rang.

"Okay, that's disgusting, no, no I don't need the details, I believe you," Linda said, propping her elbow on the counter and pulling a face, "Do you need me to come over?" Pause. "You do know that saying ' _I'm a Milkovich_ ' isn't an answer, right?" Pause. "Look, just give her my love okay, I have someone who can cover today." There was a pause and she rolled her eyes, "Just come in when you can, Mick, I'll speak to you later."

She hung up and grimaced at Ian. "That boy is incapable of simply saying,  _'she's ill_ ', he has to give me a whole description of the colour of her puke and everything," she said, because apparently if she had to know, Ian did as well, "But basically, Mickey's girl's ill, so can you start now?"

He nodded even as his stomach and heart plummeted south towards the ground. Mickey had a girl. He was apparently still denying the fact he was gay then, was even taking it a step further. It made Ian feel sick just to think it. He wondered what she was like; this girl that Mickey decided was worth lying about his true nature for.

It wasn't like Ian had expected Mickey to come out or anything, but it was like Mickey was taking a step backwards with the whole sexuality thing. Ian hadn't come out either, not while in the army, not while away from Chicago. Only his family and a handful of other people knew, he couldn't talk about coming out, but at least he wasn't trying to make a relationship with a girl work.

Mandy hadn't counted either, that hadn't been a real relationship, it never had been. And now it didn't matter anyway. He still felt sort of sick inside at the idea of Mandy being dead. He kept picking up the phone and wanting to call her, to tell her something that had happened. It was like a piece of him died every time he had to put that phone back down.

He felt bad that he hadn't been there. He felt bad that he'd joined the army and let her suffer through what she was feeling all on her own. He felt bad for so many things, but it all came back to the army he found. He kept wondering what would have happened if he hadn't gone. Would Mandy still be alive? What would the situation with Mickey be like?

But the question he probably asked himself most frequently, was,  _where was Lilly_?

He wanted to know about that little piece of Mandy. He wanted to find her, to look after her because he owed Mandy that much. But he wouldn't know where to start and he still didn't have the courage to ask Mickey.

He could tell that Mickey had been working at the Kash and Grab. Under the counter there were remnants of food, a half empty packet of cigarettes and there were pieces of gum stuck to the underside of the counter that made Ian grimace at the same time as he smiled. It was all so Mickey.

Admittedly, Ian had a little bit of trouble imagining Mickey behind the counter – even though he'd seen it himself – because Mickey didn't have that big an attention span. He didn't like sitting still, he didn't like having to talk to people and he hated monotonous tasks. So sitting behind a cashier wasn't exactly the job that Mickey was best suited for.

Linda told him that Kash wasn't around anymore, but that he'd come back for a few months. What she didn't say, but what Ian gathered from the expression on her face was that Mickey was the reason Kash had taken off. If he did the maths, it did fit in, but Ian didn't know why Linda would choose Mickey of all people over Kash.

Maybe she'd just started to hate him that much.

"Oh, well you're new," an old lady that he didn't know smiled at him, her eyes a watery sort of blue.

He forced a smile onto his face, "Just started today."

He didn't feel like explaining that he had worked here before and so  _technically_  he wasn't new. He was just restarting. It wouldn't be worth the time it took to explain it and Ian for once wasn't in the mood to have a pointless conversation.

"Is that young man with the tattoos still working here?" she asked, "The cranky one."

Ian cracked a real smile because he thought that was probably an accurate description of Mickey, but he didn't know why anyone – especially an old lady – would be asking after him. "Yeah, he is," he said, "But his girl's ill so he's not coming in today."

The words tasted bitter on his tongue and he felt sick again.

The old lady's face softened. "Bless," she muttered, "I do hope it's nothing serious, she's so sweet that one, gorgeous too."

Ian just nodded and smiled, because he didn't particularly want to think about how sweet or cute Mickey's girl was. He wanted to block out any thoughts of her existing. He also sort of wished she'd turn out to be horrible and ugly and that Mickey was just with her for convenience or something like that.

He didn't like the thought of someone having what he never could have had.

Ian stretched out his arm, his bad one, wincing when the muscles shuddered. He'd been set a load of exercises by a physical therapist to try and get rid of the shaking, but he wasn't sure how well it would work. He wasn't sure if the shaking would ever go. He supposed it wasn't too bad, it wasn't the end of the world to have a hand that shook slightly. He could have lost his arm, he could have lost his life. Others had.

He was lucky just having to deal with the shaking, but thinking that never really stopped him thinking how annoying it was that his arm had a mind of its own. He reached his good hand up and rubbed the tender patch on his shoulder. It was still sore if he pressed down on it, which was exactly why he did so. The slight hint of pain made it all real, it seemed to ground him when he felt like he was starting to float up into the abyss.

"You have to stop doing that," Lip said, appearing on the other side of the counter and making Ian jump because he hadn't even heard the bell over the door go. He was out of it lately, disappearing into his own head and blocking out the rest of the world.

Sometimes he thought it was better if he just switched off. Then he could try and forget the scream of gunfire, the smell of blood and the dirt that clung to everyone's skin in the army, painting them an unearthly sort of colour. He could forget what it was like to hurt so badly that you wanted to die. He could forget the look of desperation in people's eyes. He could forget the screams and the explosions and the sounds of the dying.

He could forget those years, he could forget that roadside bomb, he could forget everything that had made up his life except for the good things. He knew he could if he tried hard enough, if he forced it all into a box and locked it away.

Except he couldn't.

He shrugged and dropped his hand away from his shoulder, interlocking his hands on the counter and squeezing the fingers of his bad arm hard to try and stop the shaking. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't help but see the shivers out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but feel the twitch against his other hand.

"You doing okay?" Lip asked, because it was his job still to look after Ian. It was what he liked to do, what he probably would always do. Ian had used to like the fact he'd always had someone there to back him up, to turn to it shit turned sour, but now he just wasn't sure he wanted someone looking out for him. He wasn't sure he knew how to cope with it. Not anymore.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, which seemed to be his mantra recently.

Lip didn't buy it, because he never did. He probably never would. "You sure it's a good idea for you to be working today?" he asked, "I thought you just came to see if you could get the job, not start today."

"Mickey's girl's ill," he said, the words making his stomach churn again, "So I had to come in. I had to get out the house anyway." Surely someone could understand that. Inside the house, the air was choking him. People kept fussing over him, all trying to care for him at once. It was like a slight shaking in one hand had suddenly become a full blown disability. Only Carl didn't bother trying to help him, but that was because he was Carl and he didn't really have the emotional capacity to be able to care for anyone else other than himself.

 _Sort of like Mickey_.

Lip frowned, "Mickey has a girl?"

"Apparently."

"I thought he was gay."

"He is," Ian said simply, because that he didn't doubt. And so simply, Lip understood the real reason for Ian's mood. He understood that none of this was really about the war, or about the army or about the shaking in his arm. Like it had always been in some way or another, this was about Mickey.

Lip sighed, and leant forwards against the counter, his hands resting near Ian's.

"You need to get over him," he said seriously, because that would always be Lip's method,  _You need to get over Mickey_. He'd never liked Mickey. He couldn't see past the thug that beat people up, that had beaten him up. He couldn't believe that there was anything else to Mickey. And maybe there wasn't, maybe Ian had just imagined it all. But he still wanted to believe that the ex-con was capable of so much more than anybody claimed.

Lip had liked Mickey even less when he found out Ian had been fucking him. Or maybe it was just that Ian was so obviously attached to Mickey in a way that wasn't healthy, in a way that was always going to –  _had_  – lead to heartbreak.

"You think I haven't tried?" Ian asked, scowling at nothing in particular, just the conversation and the thoughts in his own head.

He felt like he was screaming underneath his own skin; he just didn't know yet exactly what he was screaming for.

He could tell from the expression on Lip's face that he didn't think Ian had tried hard enough. "So why don't you tell him?" he asked, changing tact, "He might, I don't know, feel the same way, or he might tell you to fuck off, but then at least you'd know."

"I already know how that conversation would go," Ian said, because he did, "And it would end with me being punched in the face." Mickey didn't handle heartfelt conversations well, he lashed out. He'd freak out if Ian started mentioning emotions or shit like that.

Lip frowned, "And you like this guy,  _why_?"

Ian snorted, because he could see the logic behind this question. "No clue," he admitted, "I think he's just addictive or something." That was a good way of phrasing it, a good comparison. Mickey was a drug, always had been, and it was far too long since Ian had last had a hit.


	8. Chapter 8

Mickey has this memory of when Mandy was a baby, well maybe not a baby, but a little kid and she got ill. Milkovichs didn't get ill, not really, they had the immune systems of Gods. But shit always happened, because Mandy had been lucky, just like Mickey wasn't; and so she got ill.

It hadn't been anything serious, nothing more than a stomach bug, but Mickey remembered that both his parents – because his mother was still around in those days – were passed out on the couch or something and he knew already at that early age that his Dad got violent if he was woken up, so Mickey snuck Mandy into the bathroom attached to his room and sat with her while she retched up the lining of her stomach. It had been pretty disgusting, but Mickey had sat there holding her hair back and saying nothing.

And later on he'd tucked Mandy in to his bed because then she was closer to the bathroom and he sort of felt proud of himself. He felt like a good big brother for once, like he had done something he was supposed to do. Mickey didn't do that every often, he wasn't a good brother often.

But he felt like that again now, felt that pride in himself as he sat with Lilly.

Lilly was oddly compliant when she was ill. She did what he asked her to, slept most of the time when she wasn't throwing up. She spent pretty much the entire day curled up against his side under a blanket and Mickey pretended to be watching the TV, when really he was just listening to her breathe.

He didn't move a muscle as she slept, too terrified of waking her up. She had her small hand wrapped around the back of his wrist and that oddly possessive gesture made him smile, even though he didn't completely know why. Maybe it was because it made him feel like he finally belonged to someone. Even if it was just a two-year-old.

Mickey didn't find he was so opposed to the idea of belonging to someone, not anymore.

He'd have thought it was just mattering to Lilly that he cared for, but it wasn't just that. Because he could feel the need to belong to a certain  _other_  person eating away at his insides. He didn't like admitting that he cared, but he couldn't help but think that maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to let Ian in.

He'd sort of done it before, or at least had been starting to let him in until Frank had ruined it all and Mickey had bolted like a complete idiot. He wished he'd stuck around, wished he'd made things go differently, made different choices.

But then he wouldn't have had the little girl that was curled up beside him now. And he couldn't think what it would be like not to have her around anymore. His life revolved around Lilly, he didn't think that was such a bad thing, even if he did sort of tell himself that it was pathetic to a degree.

When she woke up, he lifted her into the bath to try and wash the smell of vomit off her skin and hopefully to try and get some colour in her cheeks again. She half-smiled at him as he flicked water into her face and scowled at him when he washed her hair. He took that as a clear sign that she was feeling better if she was back to showing her weird aversion to bubbles.

"You're a strange one, you know that right?" he asked as he carried her into his room wrapped up in an overlarge towel.

"No," she said, with a firm scowl on her face and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Never said it was a bad thing, did I?" he countered, sitting on the bed with his back against the wall and Lilly curled up in his lap. "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked her as she tucked her head under his chin.

His only response was a mumbling snore. She'd already fallen asleep, but then she was a Milkovich and they had some serious skills when it came to dropping off to sleep like a light, as Mickey displayed just a few minutes later. It didn't even matter that he wasn't particularly comfortable, as long as Lilly was.

Because it all came back to Lilly now.

-000-

She came to work with him the next morning, the colour back in her cheeks and her energy returned if the way she threw a golf ball at his head was anything to go by. Linda smiled at him when he arrived and said she'd look after Lilly upstairs in case she was still unwell.

Mickey was especially pleased about that when the bell over the door rang and someone he hadn't been expecting walked in.

"We're fucking closed," he called over his shoulder, balancing the box in his arms so that he could unload the drinks into the fridge before him. He'd found he'd gotten oddly good at balancing things at absurd angles since Lilly had come along.

Not many people could juggle several bags worth of stuff while having Lilly do her very best to tear out his hair. Those weeks whilst she'd been teething had been his own personal form of hell. He could still hear her crying ringing in his ears even now if he concentrated.

"Yeah, Mick, I know."

He jumped at the sound of Ian's voice, almost dropped the box – except he had skills remember, so he didn't, he just looked like a fucking idiot as he hurried to catch it again. Ian smiled at him, his lips curving upwards into a grin that wasn't quite that shit eating one, but something close. There was pain in his eyes though and Mickey wondered if that was from the war.

"You're back," he said stupidly, but then what the fuck else was he supposed to say.

Ian nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, his other hand pushed deep into his pocket, like was trying to make it disappear. Mickey scowled.

"How long for?" he tried to make it sound like he didn't really care, setting the empty box down now and crushing it until it was flat.

Ian shrugged, "I'm thinking forever."

Mickey's eyes snapped back up to him and there were these long, silent few minutes whilst he checked for damage. The redhead still had all his limbs though, he was walking and smiling – even though that expression was fading under Mickey's stare – and there weren't any scars that Mickey could see.

Except Ian's hand was still shoved deep into his pocket and he fidgeted when Mickey's eyes zeroed in on it.  _The arm then_ , he thought, wondered what exactly was wrong with it.

"What the fuck happened?" he asked, too tightly wound now to try and make it sound like he didn't care.

"Roadside bomb," Ian said, trying to sound flippant, but Mickey could see the pain in his eyes, "Chunk of metal went through my shoulder, fucked up my hand." He eventually pulled it out of his pocket and Mickey could see the subtle shaking that he knew Ian couldn't control.

He relaxed, smirked, "Shit Gallagher, I get that when I fucking drink."

Which was sort of true, sometimes. Not really.

He saw Ian relax as well, saw that smile come back and he knew then that Ian hated his fucked up hand, even though it could have been worse, even though it wasn't that bad, he still hated it. Mickey thought that was stupid, but he didn't know how to say that so that it didn't come out badly. Or at least really badly.

"Your girl's better then?" Ian asked suddenly, bitterness in his voice and his eyes and Mickey jumped guiltily, like a kid caught stealing candy.

Linda must have told him, must have spilled the beans about Lilly. And Ian was looking at him just like he knew he would. He was disappointed in him, that much was written all over Ian's face.

"Yeah," he said, trying not to scowl, trying to keep his voice controlled, "It was just like a one day bug thing." Like fuck he'd be at work if it hadn't been. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, changing the subject not-so-subtly.

Ian winced slightly, perhaps at Mickey's tone. "My trigger fingers fucked," he said, shrugging, "Had to get a job."

"Had to get out of the fucking house more like," Mickey muttered and then his words seemed to sink in, "Hold on, you work here again?"

Ian nodded, "Yeah, Linda said it could go back to being like it used to be when we worked the same days," he explained, "Me behind the counter, you being security."

 _And fucking in the storeroom when we get bored_ , Mickey thought, but he didn't say that, because he knew that wasn't what Ian would be thinking. He tried to sound like he didn't care at all when he shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Cool, whatever."


	9. Chapter 9

It was starting to feel strained.

Sometimes he and Ian just fell back into that easy sort of relationship they'd always had, where even when they didn't speak, things were still said. But Mickey didn't understand Ian like he used to and the redhead in turn didn't understand him. So much had changed and more often than not the silence weighed heavy down on both of them.

Banter faded away until comments made were taken seriously, whether they were meant so or not. Sometimes anger or pain would flash through Ian's eyes at something Mickey had said and so the older boy resorted to not speaking to try and fix the issue. He didn't want to hurt Ian, even though he did, sort of, because the redhead still looked at him with that all-consuming disappointment when he thought Mickey wasn't looking.

Mickey was always watching though, how could he not be? Ian was the sort of person who just demanded your attention, except Mickey had gotten good at hiding the slanted, hungry looks he gave the other boy.

 _Man_ , they were men now. Sort of. They were in that in between stage, but Mickey sometimes thought that they were both far too young for the hand that had been dealt them by the world. Mickey was too young to be a parent, Ian was too young to be hurt by war.

Of course, Mickey would never trade Lilly for anything, but with every look from Ian, he wondered if he was doing what was best for her. He wondered if him as a parent seemed like a good idea to him, because it obviously didn't to anybody else.

He wondered if Ian would change what had happened if he could go back. He wondered if he would still join the army, even if he knew that he'd come out of it injured, even if he knew he wouldn't be in it for long at all. Mickey didn't think he would, even though the injury wasn't that bad, even though Ian still had a long life stretched ahead of him, Mickey didn't think the redhead would do it again if he had the chance. He thought Ian would change it all if he could.

It made Mickey want to say, " _I told you so_." Except he never had. He'd always thought that Ian wouldn't like the army as much as he thought he would. He'd always thought that secretly Ian was just too delicate for what it entailed. Sure, he could be tough, but his heart was like putty sometimes, so easily moulded by things. Mickey had a harder heart, a tougher one, he could have coped with the pressure of the army, just not the pressure of the rules. Mickey could cope with the pain, the loss of friends, but Ian was too soft for all that, even if he wouldn't ever admit it.

That was the problem though, wasn't it?

All of Mickey's opinions, all of the things he had known would turn out to be fact, had never been anything more than thoughts. He'd been too terrified to tell Ian, too terrified to let it seem like he thought about these things, that he worried about the redhead and the future. Mickey had kept his mouth shut to seem aloof, so that he could pretend he didn't listen to a single word Ian said when he talked about stupid nothings.

Only now, he sort of wished he'd let Ian know that he'd listened to every single fucking word.

Of course, it was Mickey's luck, Mickey's shitty luck that made him realise that when it was hopeless. What good would confessions be now? Ian would still look at him with disappointment in his eyes, he'd still remember the harsh words Mickey had spat at him, he would still remember Mickey continually driving a wedge between them.

No, Mickey couldn't tell him now, it would be an unnecessary hurt. And Mickey didn't do the unnecessary.

Mickey watched Ian sometimes while he was acting as 'security'. He watched him when Ian didn't think he was. He watched Ian stretch his arm out and flex his fingers, watched him scowl at the involuntary shaking in the limb. Mickey had resorted to Google again, like he often did and he'd found out that Ian's arm would probably always do that.

He wanted to tell him that it was nothing, that you could hardly even notice it until Ian tried to hide it. He wanted to tell him that he certainly didn't care that Ian was a little bit less than perfect, it made him feel like maybe they were more equal. But he didn't say any of that, because plenty of people would have told Ian that it was nothing to shake slightly in one limb, so why would Mickey's words mean any different? Why would he believe him? Nobody believed him. And Ian wouldn't care that Mickey didn't give a shit about that shaking, because it was too late for words like that now. Ian would probably only hear the insult in the words that Ian was only slightly less than perfect now. He wouldn't hear that it was a little bit of a lie, he wouldn't hear that Mickey thought the redhead was probably the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

The second thing he'd ever seen that he thought was perfect was Lilly, but Ian wouldn't understand, wouldn't believe how much Mickey cared for her either.

So Mickey swallowed his tongue, kept his words to himself and just counted down the hours until he could sit on the sofa with Lilly and actually be important to someone again. He cherished those moments when she'd stare at him with wide eyes and look so much like Mandy that his breath caught sometimes, he adored the way that she looked at him like he was perfect. Nobody had ever looked at him like that. It made him think that maybe he wasn't doing this father thing so badly, especially since he had never looked at his own Dad like that.

The desire to had never even crossed his mind for a moment.

The little rugrat landed on his chest the morning the past came to bite him in the ass. She laughed when the air wheezed out of him and patted his cheek lightly with her palm, like that would help return the air to his lungs.

He groaned and grabbed her around the middle, rolling them both off the sofa so that she squealed and clung to him in mock fear. If it had been any other person, Mickey would have rolled and slammed them hard into the floor, but it was Lilly, so instead he let himself fall on his own shoulder, cradled her from the impact so that the smile never left her face, so that she felt nothing of the landing.

"Dad-dy," she said, swatting at his arm, her voice chiding and he thought she'd probably gotten that from Linda.

"Lil-ly," he said, mimicking her tone, which made her giggle.

He lifted her, swinging her onto his back so that her arms settled down over his shoulders. She rested a pointy chin by his neck and he shivered at the feel of her breath on his cheek. It was still weird for him sometimes, having another person this close, so willingly; and more to the point, not caring that they were.

They sat opposite each other at the table, Lilly boosted up on several cushions so that she was at the right height. Mickey didn't notice that the little girl copied the messy, sloppy way that he ate his cereal. He didn't notice that when he stuck his tongue into the corner of his mouth, she absorbed the action with wide eyes and copied it.

Mickey was oblivious to these little things that she did, didn't see the meaning behind them, didn't see that she watched every single move he made in a sort of awe like way. If he had, he would have seen that Lilly already adored him as much as he adored her.

She cringed away from the bubbles in the sink as he washed up several days' worth of dirty dishes and he laughed at her mercilessly, which made her scowl and hit him in the back of the knees with the ragged doll that she now carried everywhere. It made her look even more like Mandy to see her holding it. But in so many ways she was unlike Mandy, that it didn't seem like she was her child at all.

Mickey liked to think that she'd inherited only the best parts of her mother, from his sister: her strength and her looks.

When Mickey ruffled Lilly's dark hair, she bared her tiny, white teeth at him in a sort of feral way and that made him feel strangely proud, because he didn't think any other two-year-old would really have that reaction. It was when she did things like that that he liked to think she was like him too. But he wondered what the best parts of him were that she could inherit, he always got the horrible feeling she was only ever picking up the bad parts.

Lilly didn't care ever that they both had to be up early, that it was quarter to seven by the time they left the house to open up the Kash and Grab. She was wide awake before he was, her body clock probably permanently out of sync now with the rest of the worlds. His reasons for getting up so early were his own though. Linda didn't make him open up the shop, but he did it to try and avoid Ian meeting Lilly. He didn't want to give the redhead a chance to see a fault in the way he'd raised her. He didn't want to be judged more, so he made sure that he arrived first and left last, no time for overlap.

He told himself it was better that way and Lilly was too young to give a shit either way. She just did what he did, pulling his hair when he made a decision he didn't like, or scowling in a way that made him vow never to do it again. Kind of like when he'd given her sweet corn in an attempt to make her try and eat healthily and had her taste a little bit and then throw it at him.

He'd just laughed, because she was a Milkovich and it wasn't really in their blood to like vegetables all that greatly.

"I'll be back in a minute, this is starting to fucking stink," he muttered, lifting the bag of trash he'd meant to take out the day before, "Go find a hat, it's cold outside."

She nodded and ran off and Mickey half-smiled at her eagerness as he shoved his feet into his shoes. He left the backdoor open slightly because he was only going to be a minute and he couldn't be bothered to walk back and close it.

He'd just dropped the bag of trash down into the trashcan when someone grabbed him from behind. He prided himself in the fact that he always went down fighting and he managed to catch the person who grabbed him under the jaw with his fist, but even as he fell to the ground, someone else took his place and then something slammed into the back of his head and he was tumbling headfirst into unconsciousness.

Strangely, the only thing he really thought before he blacked out was that it was a good thing that they hadn't tried to jump him in the house, as least this way they were far away from Lilly. At least they couldn't hurt her.


	10. Chapter 10

It had gotten awkward working with Mickey, but Ian couldn't bring himself to stop, couldn't bring himself to change the arrangement. Not even when the thought of Mickey with some girl made him want to tear his own hair out and made him feel like he was choking on nothing but the thoughts in his head.

Mickey didn't say anything about her, changed the subject whenever the handful of sparse conversations they did have threatened to turn towards this mystery girl. Ian sort of wanted to meet her, wanted to know what she was like, but he didn't have the courage to ask. Just like he didn't have the courage to ask if Mickey knew what had happened to Lilly.

The only time he had had the courage to ask anything of Mickey was when he'd realised he had very little to remember Mandy by. Mickey had turned up with a handful of pictures and a bracelet that Mandy had always worn – Ian didn't know and probably never would know that Mickey had sat there for hours with Lilly, showing her all the pictures, pointing out the people in them and Ian would also probably never know that Mickey had asked Lilly to find something else to give to Ian that was Mandy's.

Ian had tied the bracelet, a simple woven thing that she'd no doubt stolen from somewhere around the wrist of the arm that shook and he liked to imagine that having it there helped, both with the pain in his chest and with the shaking, but it didn't. Nothing helped, he'd given up thinking that anything ever would.

He wondered what Mickey thought now, what he saw when he looked at Ian. He wondered if the ex-con thought he was broken, if he'd ever thought he was whole at all. He wondered if the subtle glances Mickey gave him sometimes meant he gave a shit, or if they meant nothing at all.

He spent a lot of time wondering nowadays.

"Ian, phone," Fiona dropped it onto the table in front of him as she hurried past, getting Liam ready for school and trying to organise the rest of them. She never stopped, even though she didn't really have to look after them anymore. Well, Liam still needed caring for, but the rest of them not so much.

"Hello?"

He didn't have a clue who could be ringing him so early. Nobody ever really rang him at all, actually.

"Ian, I need you to stop by Mickey's house and see if he's okay," Linda said, although it was more of an order than anything else, "He was supposed to be here a while ago to open up like usual, but he never turned up and he hasn't called to say that he couldn't come in."

It was the worry that he heard in her voice under the usual commanding tone, but he also sort of wanted the excuse to be able to go around to see Mickey at his house. He hadn't set foot even near there since Mandy died and he hadn't had any excuse to. There would have been no point turning up without an excuse.

He wondered if this girl of Mickey's lived there or if she only dropped by, he wondered if she was the reason he wasn't calling in sick, the reason he was delayed. The images in his brain made him want to try and carve out his eyeballs with the spoon in his hand.

His feet felt like they were made of lead, like they were glued to the pavement as he walked the familiar path to the Milkovich's home. He had so many theories in his head that he felt like they outnumbered the cracks on the pavement. The one that took root the most firmly was that Terry had made a reappearance after all these years. Well, it wasn't that long actually, but normally he dropped by pretty regularly when he wasn't inside.

The first thing he noticed was that there wasn't the usual litter outside in the yard, the decades old beer cans and bottles, hidden under layers of snow. It wasn't like it was pristine or anything, the paint was still cracked and the air still tasted thick on Ian's tongue, but it was still cleaner than he ever remembered it being. Than he had ever seen it.

He wondered if that was Mickey's doing, or his girl's. He couldn't imagine Mickey cleaning, he'd said himself he didn't like cleaning up after people. He'd said so in that dug out a lifetime ago, when things had been simpler and better and so incredibly different. Back when Ian had still thought that going into the army would give him everything he had ever wanted in life. Sometimes he thought it had robbed him of it, because looking back, he'd always felt like he'd had everything just by standing by Mickey's side.

But then, if he found that out, the ex-con would probably throttle him for it.

Nobody answered the front door, so Ian looped around the back, because he knew Linda would kill him if he didn't check properly. The first sign that maybe Mickey wasn't just passed out drunk inside was that the back door was slightly ajar. He knocked on the doorframe and called out as he walked in, but nobody answered him.

Everything was cleaner inside too, almost eerily so. There were no beer cans, but instead crayons and random items littered about. There were no dishes stacked dirty in the sink, but instead clean ones in the drainer beside it. The air wasn't as thick as he remembered it either, it didn't smell of weed or meth and he didn't feel like he was getting high just by breathing.

He checked the sofa for a passed out person, rested a hand on the wood of Mandy's bedroom door, but was too terrified to go inside. He didn't want to see if Mickey had thrown things away, didn't want to see the evidence of Mandy never being in this house ever again.

He hesitated for longer outside Mickey's door, his ears straining for sounds that something was going on within that he didn't want to see. The 'Keep the fuck out' sign was still in place and he smiled at the fact that that hadn't changed. He pushed the door open slowly and stopped, because everything was the same, but everything was so incredibly different.

Most of the posters on the wall had been taken down in favour of photographs, ones of Mandy, of Mandy and Mickey, of Mandy and Ian, of a baby that didn't look quite like Mandy, but that he supposed had to be. The covers on the bed were the same, but they looked cleaner than Ian had ever seen them. There wasn't the usual clutter, no random knives or beer bottles lying about, instead there were random objects that Ian could find no meaning in being there. There weren't the usual pile of clothes on the floor, just one shirt that he remembered Mickey having worn a few days ago – because he was sad like that.

He walked into the bathroom to check that Mickey wasn't passed out in there or something and wide blue eyes stared up at him from over the top of a ragged doll and Ian could have sworn his heart stopped beating in his chest.

The little girl couldn't have been any older than two and she straightened up out of her huddle, standing fully clothed in the bath and he half smiled at her t-shirt that read, 'Two's are terrible! I'm having a blast!' She looked strikingly like Mandy, with her wide blue eyes and her dark hair that fell around her shoulders and the way she stared at him, like she thought that she could take him on, that was a typically Milkovich attitude.

She clutched that ratty doll to her side that he swore he'd seen in Mandy's room once.

She looked like she'd been crying.

"Lilly?" he asked, even though he knew it was already her. She just carried on staring at him and he felt it the moment her gaze zeroed in on the bracelet around his wrist. She cocked her head to the side in a way that made her look a lot like Mickey and also eerily intelligent for such a small child.

She nodded slowly after a second and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"I'm Ian," he said softly, not wanting to freak her out, "Are you all alone here?"

He sort of wanted to kill Mickey if he was the one responsible for leaving Lilly here all on her own. Knowing Mickey, his attitude would probably be that she'd be alright for a minute or two, she'd survive.

She nodded, still not saying anything and Ian wondered if that was because she'd been told not to speak to someone she didn't know.

"I'm just going to ring my friend, okay?" he asked her, already dialling Linda.

"What is it?" she sounded like she'd been expecting him to ring and tell her something was wrong, "Is Mickey there, is he okay?"

"I don't know," he admitted slowly, "But I found Lilly sitting in the bathtub, looks like he went out and left her here."

Linda snorted down the phone. "Don't be stupid, he'd rather chop of his own arm with a penknife," she snapped at him, "Is Lilly alright?"

"She looks fine," he admitted, surprised that she sounded quite so venomous over the suggestion Mickey had just left her. She was obviously implying that he cared a lot for the girl, but Ian had a hard time actually picturing that in his head.

Following Linda's instructions he handed the phone over to Lilly, who awkwardly held it against her ear, her grip white-knuckled on the doll she held. "Daddy gone," she said, a scowl on her face which again was oddly Mickey-like, "He take rubbish in black van."

Ian frowned and it wasn't just at the title she was giving Mickey. "He got into a van?" he asked her, now knelt down at the edge of the bath.

She looked at him like maybe he was stupid and nodded.

Linda must have said something to her then, because she suddenly held the phone back out to him. "Okay, you probably won't believe me, but Mickey wouldn't ever leave her on her own," Linda said, "It was hard enough getting him to let me take her upstairs while he worked in the shop, do you think we should call the police?"

"No, they wouldn't do anything, especially not since Mickey's a Milkovich, they'd just say wait," Ian said, scratching his head and following Lilly as she climbed out of the bath and went into Mickey's room. She climbed up onto the bed and sat staring at the pictures stuck on the wall. "What do you want me to do now?"

"I have to take the kids to see their grandmother," she said after a moment, "Do you think you could take Lilly or would you rather I try and cancel?"

It was strange to have the girl he'd been wanting to find all this time sitting in front of him. If he'd only had the courage to ask Mickey before, he would have found out that she was fine all along. He wondered why Mickey hadn't told him.

"Yeah, that's fine," he said almost automatically, "Fiona won't mind."

And she wouldn't, she wouldn't put out a helpless child, even if she was a Milkovich.

"Okay, make sure you leave a note so if Mickey comes back he doesn't freak out," Linda advised, "Call me with you need to find out anything and whatever you do, don't try and feed her sweet corn, you'll wind up wearing it."

He found himself nodding even though she couldn't see him.

"You," Lilly said when he moved closer to sit on the bed beside her. She pointed to a picture on the wall of him and Mandy.

"Yeah," he said, nodding and her face broke out into a smile, "Linda says you should come to stay with me for a while until Mickey comes back, is that okay with you?"

He didn't know why he was asking because he didn't know what he'd do if she said no.

She nodded slowly and then slid her hand into his to pull him out of the room, he followed sort of dumbly because he didn't know what else to do. She took him into what had been Mandy's room and it was still more or less the same save for the removal of a few things and the replacement of some. Lilly sat on the bed whilst Ian made a beeline for the photograph that stood on her bedside, right beside the fish bowl. It showed Mickey with his face screwed up, almost in disgust, Lilly pressing a fat kiss to his cheek, it made Ian smile.

He packed some things from Lilly's drawers, finding that there was absolutely no pink in the room or amongst her clothing whatsoever. He wondered if that was Mickey's choice or Lilly's, he figured probably Mickey's. The guy would only think that pink linked to being gay rather than Lilly being a girl.

"What's your fish called?" he asked, watching Lilly staring at it.

"Bob," she replied, pressing a finger against the glass, never for a second taking her eyes off of the fish.

He smiled even though he didn't know why, maybe he didn't need a reason. "Well, we better take Bob with us," he said, "We wouldn't want something bad to happen before Mickey comes back." He didn't want to say, ' _your daddy'_  even though he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he wanted to see if Mickey acted like a parent before he branded him one.


	11. Chapter 11

It was fucking stupid.

All of this was because of his Dad. All of this was because of a man he despised more than anything else in the world. Apparently, he owed a debt, a debt that was supposed to be paid in blood rather than money. Basically, the men who had him now were ones who wanted Terry Milkovich dead at any cost. Which was a shame. . . for  _them_.

He supposed he should have known that what had happened would come back and bite him in the ass. Nobody cared about Terry Milkovich, but they cared about stuff he'd done, they wanted revenge. He wasn't really surprised about that part, he'd decided a long time ago that he didn't actually want to know about the shit his Dad was capable of.

"He's already dead," he bit out through the ache in his jaw.

And of course they batted him around a bit to see whether that would make him change his answer, but it didn't and it never would. He didn't have any other answer to give. He told them that, but he probably didn't look all that convincing tied to a chair in the middle of a room, that and his wrists fucking  _hurt_.

"We would have heard if he was dead," the idiot Mickey had punched was obviously the muscle of the operation.

Mickey snorted, "Yeah, because I was going to fucking tell someone, wasn't I?"

The guy, he didn't even know what any of their names were, he didn't particularly care to find out either, smirked, "Well how about you share then, before we see if pliers will help loosen up your tongue."

Mickey pulled a face, but he didn't really know if that was from the threat or from the fact that he was going to actually have to confess now. And who could back him up?  _Nobody_. The only person who'd been there was now dead, Mandy. He wondered if this was why she'd done herself in, these guys poking around for information.

_She could have fucking warned him!_

-000-

_Mickey didn't even really know how it all started. He didn't know how his Dad found out, all he knew was that one minute he was sleeping and the next he was flying through the air and colliding hard with the back of the sofa._

_He didn't know if he heard Mandy scream or if that was just the ringing in his ears as his breath rushed out of his lungs. His Dad threw him around a bit more, bouncing his son off of walls, furniture, anything really. And Mickey didn't fight it, because he knew it wouldn't be any use. He didn't have anything left to fight for now anyway; he'd let that all slip through his fingers as easily as smoke would. He'd let the one thing he could have fought for, should have fought for run off with dreams of joining the fucking army._

_So Mickey just lay there, hardly resisting as his Dad tried to choke the life out of him, both with the hands around his throat and the weight bearing down on his chest. He could have sworn he felt his ribs creaking in protest._

_"I'm not having a faggot as a son," he snarled at him and he died with that statement hanging in the air._

_Terry Milkovich died when his daughter pulled the trigger that sent his brains splattering everywhere. Terry Milkovich died when his only daughter chose her faggot brother over her homophobic father. Afterwards, Mickey thought maybe a part of Mandy died then as well, she'd always been the sweet one out of them all, she'd never really hurt anybody, she was tough, but she was too soft for murder._

_Weirdly though, Mickey's first thought wasn't any concern for his sister, it was that that should teach the bastard for leaving guns just lying around. Not that you could teach the dead anything, but he still found himself smirking as he forced aside the body that had slumped against him, freeing himself from the hands that had gone slack around his throat._

_It had taken a whole minute before Mandy realised quite what she'd done and started screaming._


	12. Chapter 12

Ian almost jumped a mile that first night.

As he'd expected, Fiona hadn't really minded that he'd brought Lilly back with him to stay for a while. Everyone thought she was cute and they all saw how much she looked like Mandy. Ian thought that was probably the reason for the lack of complaints.

What Ian definitely hadn't expected was for Lilly to wander into the room that he still shared with Carl and Liam – Lip had moved out a while ago now – with her doll in hand and her eyes wide and sleepy. She poked him in the middle of the forehead to wake him, even though he hadn't quite been asleep yet and silently he'd edged closer to the wall.

She hadn't hesitated to climb onto the bed, curling up against his chest.

"I miss Daddy," she mumbled, her hair tickling his flesh and one of her small palms pressed against his heart, like she was feeling the beat there, maybe she was. She burrowed closer to him and Ian figured that if anything, Mickey had to be an alright parent if Lilly missed him. He still couldn't quite imagine Mickey being all caring and parental, but it was a start if Lilly loved him.

Ian started to realise just how much like Mickey Lilly was in that first day she spent at the Gallagher house. Sure, she was the spitting image of Mandy, but her mannerisms and her habits were exactly like Mickey's.

He'd thought he was seeing things the first time she'd pushed her tongue into the corner of her mouth, but then she'd done it again and again, like it was habit now. She rubbed her bottom lip with her finger sometimes as she stared at the door, waiting for someone to walk through it. She ate just like Mickey, in a sort of terrifying way that was basically the pure inhalation of food in the messiest possible way.

And she scowled like Mickey, smirked like Mickey, laughed at things that little children shouldn't have found quite so amusing. He wondered if he was the only one who noticed the similarities, he supposed he probably was. Nobody else really knew Mickey and Mickey's little habits like he did.

He wondered what she was like when she wasn't waiting, when she wasn't staring at the door and hoping for Mickey to walk through it.

He didn't return the first day and on the second one, he asked her if she'd like to come to work with him. She'd been up like a flash, doll still in hand and grabbed a plain black hat from the pile of her stuff, jamming it onto her head and looking up at him expectantly.

She woke up freakishly early, he noticed that as well. She was always up at six at the latest, but she wasn't like a usual kid. She wouldn't wake anybody else up, he'd just find her in the morning, sitting and watching the door with silent, hopeful eyes. And when she wasn't staring at the door, she was watching the fish, with her face pressed up close to the glass and her eyes wide, like she was in awe of it or something. She fed it every morning, laughing as it swam up to the top to snatch up the food.

That was the only time her laughter ever seemed real.

Lilly didn't really like other people, he felt like she merely tolerated him sometimes, but that wasn't something she extended to anyone else. She may have been cute, but she punched Lip in the eye one time he tried to pick her up and Ian had laughed because she was so completely a Milkovich in that moment that it was unreal.

He didn't understand why Lip had looked quite so hurt at the response.

Ian carried her as they walked to the shop, feeling oddly protective and her fingers curled in the back of his hair like she thought he'd vanish if she didn't hold on. Linda had gone away and so it was Ian's responsibility to look after the Kash and Grab for a few days. He couldn't help but think how differently he would have spent her absence if this had happened when he was still a teenager, before the army, when he and Mickey had been something close to a thing.

Lilly liked to watch, he'd worked that out already.

If she wasn't watching the door, she was watching him, following him with her eyes as he moved about the store, re-stocking shelves or serving a customer. It was like she was being so incredibly careful, making sure he wasn't going to bolt.

The main time that he realised just how much of Mickey she had in her, was when she was sitting on the counter while he served someone.

"What the fuck's wrong with your hand?" the guy, a teenager asked as Ian's hand shook slightly as he took the money.

Before Ian could reply, Lilly kicked out her feet and caught the guy right in the nuts. He made this sort of choked, wheezing sound and she smirked even though she should have been too young to pull off that expression. "Oops," she said in a falsely innocent way and hugged her doll to her chest.

Ian couldn't help but laugh.

It kind of scared him though how intelligent she was, but also how she had a mean streak even at two. Or maybe it was a protective streak, he didn't really know. She took his shaking hand in one of hers after the teenager had hobbled out and didn't seem bothered at all that it quivered slightly in her tiny grasp. She stared him straight in the eyes when she said, "Army stupid."

And there was a weird sort of conviction in her face.

He nodded, because he couldn't help but agree. He did wonder though how she'd known that he'd been in the army and how she'd known he'd messed up his hand because of it. He wondered if Mickey had talked about him to her, but he didn't want to hope about things like that.

Especially not when Mickey might not ever come back.

Lip came into the store on the third day Mickey had been missing, keeping a close eye on Lilly where she sat not far away, scribbling aimlessly on a piece of paper. "Who's her dad?" Lip asked him, leaning across the counter slightly, "Her real dad I mean, do you know?"

Ian frowned because he didn't know why that mattered. "No," he admitted, "All Mandy told me was that it was some guy in the back of the Alibi Room when she was upset one night, she said it didn't matter because the guy didn't need to concern himself."

There were a lot of things that Mandy mumbled when she was upset and she'd spent a lot of time upset after Mickey and her Dad had both done a runner.

He didn't understand why Lip turned green. Or maybe he did, especially when Lip swore and stormed out. He thought it was sort of typical though, because when was anything ever simple in his life? In any of their lives?


	13. Chapter 13

When they heard someone pounding on the front door whilst they ate, Ian knew who it was and he could swear that Lilly did too, because she instantly whipped around to face the sound. Fiona answered and they all heard Mickey's demand of, "Where the hell is she?"

He stalked into the room a second later.

"Daddy!"

Lilly wiggled off of Ian's lap and Mickey crashed to his knees as she ran at him. She buried her face in his neck and his pressed into her hair and Ian had never seen Mickey cry, hadn't been sure he even had tear ducts, but he was doing so then.

There was complete silence in the house in that moment, which was why Ian could hear Lip's teeth grinding together as he watched Mickey with Lilly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling back so that he could look at her.

Ian got up and moved closer, like he was being drawn to them. He couldn't help it. He was intrigued.

Lilly nodded and touched his broken face, her features mashing into a scowl.

"Look at these," Mickey said, showing her the dark smudge-like bruises on his knuckles, "These mean I fought back."

She nodded again and touched his knuckles with gentle fingers. Ian could practically feel the bond crackling between them and he felt ashamed for ever thinking that Mickey wouldn't care for her. It still wasn't clear that he was a good parent, but he cared and that was a start. It was more than Frank did most of the time anyway.

Mickey roughly pushed away his own tears and collected her to him as she climbed onto his knees. They were a pair, that much was plain to see. "Missed you," Lilly muttered, but in the silence she might as well have shouted.

The ex-con holding her choked out a laugh. "Nah, you just missed someone to bully," he said and she smacked him on the back the head in response. "Missed you too," he whispered to her, but Ian was close enough to hear him. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to. Knowing Mickey, probably not.

And yet watching him, he wasn't sure whether anything he knew about Mickey was right.

"You smell," she told him, her face scrunching up in disgust, but she didn't pull away from him even an inch. She didn't even seem to care really, her fingers still held onto the back of his hair and her other hand still rested on his chest, right where his heart would be.

Mickey snorted. "Sorry, next time I'll tell them to install a showerhead over the chair I'm tied to," he muttered and Ian wondered if the sarcasm was lost on Lilly, or if she actually understood him.

The ex-con was dirty, there was no denying that. His clothes were tattered and grimy and it actually looked like he'd been digging, but that didn't make all that much sense so Ian supposed he'd probably just been in some really gross place for the past few days. The fact he'd apparently been tied to a chair made Ian feel even more guilty for thinking that he'd walked out on Lilly.

"You can shower here if you like," Fiona said, stepping up to Mickey, a polite sort of smile on her face even though it was obvious she didn't quite know what to make of this situation, "You might as well shower, get some food in you and camp on our couch for the night, I'll wash your clothes, no doubt there's something in this house that'll fit you."

Mickey looked dubious, or maybe it was just that he didn't want to let go of Lilly, but slowly he nodded. "That okay with you?" he asked Lilly, like every decision he made depended on her choices. And maybe it did, Ian didn't feel like he had a right or even the ability to judge Mickey's actions anymore.

She nodded and hugged his neck again before he slowly let her go. It was like it actually pained him to release her now he'd just gotten her back, that made Ian smile even though he couldn't completely explain why.

Mickey stopped on his way to the stairs, obviously surprised when Lilly ran to Ian and he swung her up. She smelt like dirt, but like Mickey and Ian couldn't help the way that he hung onto her a little big tighter because of that. Mickey had never smelt like a spring day, probably never would do, but Ian had always liked the way he smelt.

"Daddy's back!" she announced, clapping Ian hard on the cheeks, which made him wince slightly; but the sheer joy on the toddler's face sort of detracted from the pain, "My Daddy!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian could see Lip's face darkened and wondered if his brother actually had a right to be jealous of Mickey. He hardly knew Lilly, couldn't have the capacity to care for her just yet regardless of whether or not she was his. He hadn't even held her, she wouldn't let him.

Ian wondered why she let him hold her. She didn't know him any better than she did Lip.

He also wondered if it made him a bad person to be so pleased about that.

-000-

The next morning, Ian was later waking up than he usually was. He put that down to the fact that he had the smell of Mickey burnt into his nostrils. They'd sat and watched TV, shoulder to shoulder and Ian wondered if he imagined the heat that crackled between them.

He wasn't prepared to see what he did when he went downstairs. He thought maybe Mickey would have left, everybody else certainly had for the day, but there he was, asleep on the couch. And that wasn't the part that surprised him, nor was the fact that Mickey's face was still battered and slightly bloody, a vicious purple bruise across his cheekbone and a split in his lip. No, it was the way that Lilly was asleep flat out on his chest, looking so completely at home that it made Ian's heart trip over itself.

They looked strikingly similar, Ian hadn't realised that before. Maybe it was that Lilly looked so much like Mandy and so it was hard to notice anything else. But there was a definite resemblance between the little girl and the ex-con she slept on the chest of.

Lilly twitched in her sleep when Mickey snorted softly and it made Ian's heart ache then, to see them like that. Mickey cared. Nobody thought Mickey cared about anything, but here he was: _the parent._

It was a strange thought, but not an unwelcome one.

He supposed that everybody had to grow up sometime, but in his head he'd never thought that Mickey ever really would change. He hadn't thought there'd ever been anything that could make him change. But Mickey had cared about Mandy and it sort of made sense that he'd care about the only part of her that remained " _He'd rather chop off his own arm with a penknife_ ," Ian hadn't believed Linda before, he wondered if he did now.

He thought he probably did. Maybe it was because he'd seen the guy who'd never cry actually do so. Maybe it was because there was something oddly caring about the scene in front of him that tugged on his heartstrings. Maybe it was because he so desperately wanted to see the good in Mickey that he was willing to believe anything now. Or maybe it was just because he really did believe it. He didn't know.

Mickey's eyelids fluttered for a moment before he opened his eyes, like he could feel Ian's gaze on him. He didn't look surprised to see Ian standing there, but he did scowl slightly, like he thought Ian was going to say something bad. He'd had that expression all night actually, like he thought someone was going to take Lilly off him, like they were going to announce that actually he wasn't good enough to take care of her.

"Do you want any painkillers?" Ian asked him softly, so as not to wake up Lilly.

He shook his head slowly. "You don't need to be quiet," he said, scrubbing a hand across his eyes and then shifting slightly and cradling Lilly against him so that when he shifted upright, she wasn't jolted, "She could sleep through the fucking house collapsing around her."

Ian smiled, but only because that was a lot like Mickey too.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, facing Mickey. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the way that he gently balanced Lilly against him, brushed a bit of her hair away from being stuck at the corner of her mouth. She was drooling, because she was apparently so attractive and classy like that, but Mickey didn't seem to give a shit.

Ian couldn't help but notice the fact that he was shirtless, or that his borrowed sweatpants hung low on his lips. He thought it was a stupid thing to think, didn't even know why he thought it, but as far as Ian was concerned, Mickey had the sexiest hipbones in the world. He had to shift uncomfortably in his tight jeans; it was painful.

"It's a long story," Mickey muttered, scowling at nothing in particular and maybe everything all at once.

Ian gave him a look, "We have the time Mick, what happened?"

The ex-con stared at him, the look in his eyes seeming to become resigned to the fact that he knew Ian wouldn't drop the matter. And he wasn't going to, he wanted to know what had happened. He'd been worried, even if he had been preoccupied with Lilly. He wouldn't tell Mickey that of course, it'd probably just earn him a punch, but he'd still been worried.

"It was just some guys looking for my Dad," he muttered, pulling a face like the words tasted foul in his mouth, "He'd pissed them off or something a while ago and they wanted his head, I was the next best thing."

"They thought they could use you to get to him?" Ian asked, not sure whether that actually would have had any effect. He wouldn't say so within Mickey's hearing, but he really didn't think that Terry Milkovich gave enough of a shit about his kids to help them out. Or at least he didn't care enough to put their lives first.

The guy had always been a selfish bastard, he just happened to be an AWOL selfish bastard.

Mickey nodded, "Cause there was ever gonna be fucking chance of that happening."

There was a bitterness in his voice that was deep-rooted, like he knew exactly what his dad had felt for him and knew it was jack shit. And that wasn't being harsh, that was just telling the truth. The only one that Terry had ever really seemed to care about was Mandy. Ian wondered if he even know Mandy was dead, because he hadn't turned up to the funeral.

He'd heard that from Lip, because admittedly it wasn't like he'd been there either.

"So why did they let you go?" he asked, because it didn't quite make sense. He wasn't complaining, but it didn't make sense.

Mickey scowled and looked like he wanted to hit something, or maybe like he wanted to bolt. Ian didn't know why he didn't; but by some miracle Mickey stayed put. Maybe it had something to do with the fact Lilly was still fast asleep with her head lolling against where his heart was.

"I pointed out that it was physically impossible for the bastard to show up even if he did give a shit," Mickey muttered and he wouldn't look at Ian, which was all the answer that the redhead needed for the questions running through his head.

"Mickey, what did you do?" it wasn't really a question, because he already knew what Mickey had done. It was written all over his face. But it wasn't guilt, no, Mickey didn't feel guilty, it was more like satisfaction mingled in with worry.

Mickey grimaced. " _I_  didn't do anything," he said, rubbing his lip with a finger, "It wasn't like I told him I was queer, the bastard just found out somehow and had this bright idea to try and kill me."

Ian flinched, because honestly he'd never quite believed Mickey when he'd said that his Dad would kill him himself if he found out he was gay. He wondered how Terry had found out he was gay. "So you killed him first?" Ian asked, convinced he was right, "Did Mandy know?"

The ex-con snorted. "Didn't you just hear what I fucking said, the bastard tried to choke the fucking life out of me, I wasn't really in a position to do jack shit about it," he retorted and his words would have sounded harsh if he hadn't just looked tired. Tired physically, emotionally, tired of this conversation. "Mandy was the one who pulled the trigger, not me."

He looked guilty for saying that, like it marred the memory of Mandy or something. Ian didn't think it did, he just thought it showed how much Mandy had actually cared for her brother, even if she never would have admitted it. Mickey had been her favourite, she'd always made that clear, but then the selection wasn't great out of the Milkovich boys to be fair.

"That actually does explain a lot," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. It explained why Mandy used to start crying sometimes when someone mentioned her Dad, why she'd always jumped a mile and looked like she'd about to be sick when she heard anything that could resemble a gunshot.

He would have asked what they'd done with the body, but he probably didn't want to know.

"So they believed you then?" he asked instead, "The guy's that took you?"

Mickey shrugged. "They made me dig him back up," he admitted, "It fucking stank and you couldn't tell it was him, but he had his wallet on him so they believed me." Mickey looked like he thought that had been a stupid move, leaving it on him. One he'd probably corrected no doubt.

He knew how much it had probably pissed Mickey off to have to come out to someone, anyone. Especially people who wouldn't give a shit about killing him.

"That's why you left," he said, because that definitely wasn't a question.

Mickey shrugged, "Mandy didn't really want me around and I didn't have any reason to stick the fuck around."

Ian tried not to let the hurt show on his face. He supposed it wouldn't have mattered though, because he'd left not long after to join the army. Maybe it was some sort of sign that it wouldn't have worked out anyway. Ian felt like he had to keep telling himself that, otherwise he didn't really know what he'd do. Probably break down and curse himself for being an idiot.

"Um. . . look, Gallagher. . ." Mickey looked like the words were burning his throat when he spoke, "Thanks for looking after her, I know you probably didn't want to."

Ian frowned, "Mick, I wasn't going to leave her on her own."

Surely, Mickey thought more of him than that. Honestly, he'd been too busy being pleased that Mickey didn't have a girlfriend after all.

"She likes you," he said randomly, like he was sort of proud of that fact, but then maybe Ian was just imagining that, "She doesn't like many people."

He couldn't explain why she did and Mickey didn't look like he was expecting him to.


	14. Chapter 14

He'd been fucking knackered, but then that wasn't really surprising since the fuckers had made him dig up his Dad all on his own. It had been just out of state, on a random bit of land that a friend of Mickey's owned and digging him up reminded Mickey of when he'd gone out there to bury the fucker in the first place. He hadn't told Mandy where he was going, hadn't wanted that on her conscience. She'd been hysterical, leaving it to Mickey to clean the remnants of brain and blood off the floor and bag up their Dad's body.

Mickey hadn't really given a shit.

As far as he was concerned, the bastard had tried to kill him first.

He didn't know it was possible to miss another person as much as he'd missed Lilly though, which he knew was kind of gay and the easiest way for him to wind up getting hurt – because he was just unlucky like that – but it was still true. Or maybe it wasn't that he missed her, it was more that he'd worried about her so much he'd felt sick inside.

He wasn't used to feeling like that, he didn't like it.

And then he'd finally gotten home to find a note on the door from Ian saying that Lilly was with him and he didn't know whether to be even more worried or relieved. He was glad that Lilly hadn't been left on her own in the house for three days and there was probably no other human being on this planet that Mickey trusted more than Ian, even though he knew that was stupid and gay and completely not reciprocated and he'd never admit that, ever. But still, he couldn't help but think that Ian looking after Lilly was the fastest and easiest way for the redhead to pick out faults in his parenting.

Mickey had waited for him to, waited for him to say something, anything, but he hadn't. Instead he'd just been all concerned about what had happened and made Mickey spill information that he'd sworn was going to stay between him and the dead. But that was what Ian did to him, still, after all this time when he'd thought he was over the bastard, he still managed to crash through all of Mickey's resolve like he'd never drawn lines or created rules in the first place. It pissed Mickey off, but maybe that was just because he didn't know how to handle it.

He definitely hadn't expected Lilly to have taken a liking to the redhead. Sure, he'd told her about Ian. Told her about him being in the army, about him being Mandy's best friend, about his injury and how he worked with Mickey and that he talked too much, but he didn't think she would have been old enough to take any of that into consideration. He didn't think she'd let him pick her up and hug her, because Lilly got pissy about stuff like that, she didn't like people picking her up and gushing over her, even though she was cute.

He didn't know how to describe how he felt about the fact her and Ian got on.

He liked it, liked knowing that they had sort of clicked, but at the same time it felt like two sides of his world were colliding, the part of him that pretended to be normal with Lilly and the part of him that was as gay as fuck with Ian. He didn't know how those two worlds could coincide, he didn't know if he wanted them to.

But things didn't often go as Mickey wanted them to. He'd learnt that a long time ago.

Ian had even decided to take care of the fucking fish.

He wouldn't ever admit it, but the only reason he stuck around the Gallaghers all of that day was to spent time with Ian. It was weird, it was like the weight that had been pressing down on them, the awkwardness, it had been lifted off. It was like it always had been, just with more talking and less fucking. It was like everything was as it was supposed to be in Mickey's head and that was why he bolted, that was why he left when he did; because Mickey didn't want to do something that he was going to regret. He didn't want to fuck anything up, or maybe it would be everything that got fucked up. Probably.

He didn't want to be stupid enough to ruin everything now it was all fine again. Or about as fine as it could get with him involved.

Mickey didn't know why, but after Lilly had fallen asleep, he dug out the diary he'd found of Mandy's when cleaning out her room. Maybe it was wrong of him to read it, he didn't know, but it wasn't like she could hit him for it now. He just felt like maybe he needed to find out what had been going through her head after everything that happened. He hadn't cared, but he thought that maybe she had, maybe she'd cared too much, cared enough to kill herself.

He flicked to the end and worked backwards, since the last entry was of her finding out she was pregnant and she hadn't written much. There were just the words 'I'm pregnant' and the rest of the page was blank. She'd neglected writing for whole months, but what she did write was never anything more than a line. And then he found an entry he hadn't been looking for, wasn't sure he wanted to read, but then maybe what it said had been something he'd been searching for all along.

It stopped him feeling guilty for never telling her at least.

_**It's as hot as fuck today, seriously. Found out that Mickey's gay today, he didn't tell me, don't be stupid. I wouldn't have believed him even if he had, Mickey being gay doesn't quite make sense in my head. Walked in to find him and Ian – Ian! – having a fucking cuddle or something. Or maybe you'd call it spooning, who fucking knows! They're mad though, it's too fucking hot for cuddling. The point is though right, that Mickey never smiles and when he does its more of a smirk, but he was smiling in his sleep then and I think that means it has to be love. For Mickey anyway. He'll never admit it. I feel sort of sorry for Ian, because I know he'll never admit it. I just left again so they don't know I know, it's going to be funny watching them pretend, but I think it might hurt as well. I don't know. I do know though that if Mickey finds out I know, he'll fucking run. Doesn't matter if it's love or not. He'll run.** _

_**(still kind of hate him for fucking my boyfriend btw)** _

Mickey scowled at the page, because he hadn't had a clue she'd known and he hated even more that it turned out his sister actually knew him pretty fucking well. Mandy was finally right about something for the first time in her life; trust it to be about his fucking love life.  _Love_. God that word made him feel sick!

-000-

" _You're all sweaty," Ian practically purred in his ear, his voice all low and raspy and it did things to Mickey that he would never, ever admit to._

_"Yeah, that would be because it's as hot as fucking balls, fuck wit," he retorted, not bothering to turn over. He was glad he didn't when Ian straddled him, sitting down on the backs of Mickey's thighs._

_He was lying face down on his bed in nothing but his boxers, because it was too fucking hot to be wearing anything else. It should have been too hot to do anything, too hot to fuck, but Mickey wasn't really one for common sense. Every other sensible person was outside and enjoying the sun or some shit, but Mickey thought maybe he was smart, because he was taking the opportunity to fuck in an actual bed for once._

_He could feel Ian's hands sliding over his back and would have told him to fuck off doing that even though it felt god, except the tongue that trailed up his spine made his brain short circuit and his IQ drop considerably._

_Mickey squirmed as Ian reached the top of his back and nibble for a minute on his neck. It was like he was testing the boundaries and Mickey normally would have told him to fuck off, because this was definitely over the line, but it just felt too good and he could admit at least to himself that he didn't really want to make him stop._

_"Who says I'm complaining?" Ian asked in that fucking voice, "You taste nice."_

_To emphasise his point, he swiped his tongue across the back of Mickey's neck and Mickey swore he could feel that all the way down to his toes. He wanted to tell him to stop talking, to say he was ruining it all, he wanted to threaten him into stopping saying shit like that, except that Ian had used that fucking lime bodywash and Mickey could smell it on his skin when he pressed close and he didn't really know why but that made his dick twitch in response._

_"Gallagher, if you're going to fucking sit on me," Mickey warned, his face turned slightly to the side, but still a little muffled by the pillow, "At least be naked while you're bloody doing it."_

_Ian laughed and the weight lifted off of him for a second and even with his eyes closed, Mickey could hear Ian getting undressed. His belt made a loud thump as it hit the floor, but Mickey really didn't give a shit._

_Long fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers and Mickey lifted up slightly so that Ian could pull them off. When he sat back down again, it was on Mickey's calves and the ex-con scowled because that didn't feel good. Nowhere near as good as it would feel if Ian was sitting on his ass or thighs again._

_He forgot to complain though when Ian's finger traced the crack of his ass._

_"You know, I kind of like your ass," Ian said almost conversationally, nipping at one of the cheeks, "It's pretty fucking hot."_

_And Mickey wanted to make him shut the fuck up, except he sort of liked that compliment. Worryingly, he thought it was actually the only compliment he'd ever gotten. Not that he cared, but it was just something he realised._

_Ian's tongue flicked out as he pushed apart the cheeks of Mickey's ass and swiped across his hole. Mickey had to bite down on his pillow to try and muffle his groan, but he couldn't help the way he thrust back into Ian's face. It was like he was no longer in control of the lower half of his body._

_The redhead chuckled and Mickey really wanted to hit him, but instead he fisted the sheet in his hands and screwed his eyes shut, trying to find some semblance of control._

_After dropping a kiss onto Mickey's hole, Ian crawled up the ex-con's body, covering it with his own and it was too hot to be lying like that, to be this close, but Mickey didn't really care. Maybe he would have been able to think to complain if Ian's erection hadn't been resting between the cheeks of his ass like it fucking belonged there or something. Ian rested on his arms which were folded across the top of Mickey's shoulders and underneath him, the older boy stuttered out a moan as Ian casually ground his hips forwards into Mickey's ass._

_"You know technically, it's too hot to fuck right now," Ian said in his ear before nibbling on the lobe and making Mickey shudder with nothing but pure need._

_"You know technically, I should have fucking killed you right now," Mickey retorted, which was true. Ian was getting too familiar, Mickey was starting to let the fucker in, to get attached and that wasn't was Mickey had ever wanted. He should have severed all ties a long time ago, but for some reason he hadn't. "But I haven't, so just shut the hell up and fuck me."_

_He blamed the fact that Gallagher was lying on him for why that came out breathless and not as much of a demand at all._

_He could practically feel the redhead's grin, like Mickey had just said 'I love you' or something stupid like that._ _ **Shit**_ ,  _maybe he had._

_Mickey almost whimpered when Ian's hips lifted off of him, but then he could feel the tip of his cock brushing against his opening and Ian bit down on the side of his neck as he slammed home. There was no real preparation, no warning and it burned like hell, but Mickey didn't give a shit. It felt so fucking good._

_Ian's arms slid under his armpits under they were folded under Mickey's chin, their fingers linked together. Mickey would have been complaining about that, because that wasn't what they did, it made it something more than fucking if they were like that, but he lost the ability to speak as Ian slowly started sliding in and out of his body._

_He could feel the moan getting stuck somewhere in his throat over the way that their sweat soaked skin slid together. He didn't like wondering in the midst of it all if he'd wind up smelling like lime bodywash, but he thought it anyway. He also couldn't help wondering – maybe it was hoping – if their sweat would stick them together if they lay like that long enough._

_The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed around the room and Mickey hated hot much he liked how in sync they were. Every time it was the best sex he had ever had, it freaked him out that he knew that, worried him even more that he knew he was probably never going to had good sex again after the last time he fucked Ian. But he didn't want to think about the last time, didn't want that to somehow ruin the feel of Ian's dick in his ass, or his teeth on his neck or the tight squeeze of their fingers locked together._

_They didn't go fast, it was too hot to have the energy to go fast, so it was more like a slow slide towards oblivion. It felt different, it was different, but Mickey told himself that at the end of the day it was still sex, so it didn't matter if it wasn't fast and violent and bone-jarring. They could do that when the weather calmed the fuck down or Mickey fixed the fan that stood in the corner of the room._

_Ian shifted his hips ever so slightly, Mickey didn't know what exactly he did, but either way it hit that spot inside of Mickey in a way that had him seeing stars and screaming out something that sounded suspiciously like Ian's name. He hoped it hadn't been._

_The redhead's breath was hot against his neck, almost uncomfortable as it danced down across his cheek and Mickey didn't know what made him do it. He didn't know what made him turn his head ever so slightly and let Ian press their mouths together. He blamed the fact Ian was still hitting that spot, he blamed the fact that if they didn't kiss he was going to scream and he was simply picking the less embarrassing option. But it was like he was letting Gallagher in completely, because the wet slide of their tongues and the taste of Ian in his mouth that was mint and something else that Mickey couldn't name, that feeling was the best thing he could ever remember feeling. And he didn't like that, he didn't like the fact he liked the kiss._

_He supposed it had had to happen sometime though._

_"Mickey," Ian murmured against his mouth, gasping it out like some sort of prayer and that was all it took to send Mickey plummeting over the edge._

_He bit down hard on Ian's wrist, or maybe it was his, he couldn't tell in that moment. He tasted blood on his tongue and heard a grunt in his ear and underneath him he could feel his dick twitch as he came. He knew Ian wasn't far behind him, or maybe he came at the same time, probably. Except that Mickey didn't want to think that, because that meant something, that was stupid, so he told himself they hadn't. He lied, even to himself, like he always did._

_Ian collapsed sort of limp on his back, just spread out there and Mickey didn't have the mind to tell him to get the fuck off. He didn't really want to. They had the time anyway, it wasn't like they had to move right then. Except that Mickey couldn't really breathe and that was why he rolled them slightly so that they were lying on their sides and he blamed the fact that it was too hot and he was too fucking relaxed for why he didn't let go of Ian's fingers, why he pushed back still against the redhead so that his dick stayed right where it was in his ass._

_Unfortunately, he didn't really have an excuse for why they fell asleep like that._

-000-

Mickey bit into his forearm as he came, hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to make a scar that matched the one on Ian's arm. He shifted uncomfortably as his sticky boxers starting to cling to his skin, but he couldn't be bothered to move. He thought the fucking worrying thing was: he hadn't even had to touch himself to come.

Not that time and all those years ago when everything had still been simple.


	15. Chapter 15

Ian used to think that he knew almost everything you could know about Mickey Milkovich. He knew that he'd known things that nobody else knew, because nobody cared enough to find out. Or maybe nobody else was lucky enough to find out.

Only Ian knew that the skin over Mickey's ribs was softer than anywhere else on his body, or that he has this dip at the base of his spine and the top of his ass that Ian secretly called his 'butt dimple'. Nobody else would know how much Mickey loved it when Ian pushed his tongue into that dip. They wouldn't know that Mickey had a thing about his neck and lime bodywash or that he squirmed when Ian dragged his fingers lightly down his left side.

Only a few people knew that Mickey was gay, a handful more probably knew that Mickey's favourite food was Jell-O and that he actually had a mild obsession with it. But nobody else other that Ian would know that the scar Mickey has on his shoulder are from Ian's teeth, or that he liked it when Ian used to mark him like that because it used to make him feel like he belonged to someone.

And then there were things that probably Mickey didn't even know about himself, like how he cried sometimes in his sleep, other times he'd smile and he'd always fucking snore really, really softly like he was terrified to make too much noise. Ian doubted Mickey knew that he licked his lips before he lied, every single time. Or that he blinked before he insulted Ian, like that would make it okay or something.

Ian used to think that he knew Mickey like nobody else, that maybe he knew everything. He used to look at Mickey like he was his favourite book that he'd read so many times he knew it word by word and could recite it in his head. And then Lilly came along and Mickey started acting like a parent and Ian thought that maybe he didn't know a single thing about Mickey after all.

Except that Mickey still licked his lips before he lied and blinked before he threw Ian an insult. He had still been smiling in his sleep that morning on the sofa and he'd still snored ever so softly. And when he'd stood up, Ian had seen that scar on his shoulder, shining there faintly against Mickey's pale flesh and Ian had smiled because he thought that maybe that meant Mickey still belonged to him.

All the other stuff, he wondered if he'd ever get the chance to find out if they still were true.

He was starting to think probably not.

Lip slammed his hands down on the counter, making Ian jump violently out of his own head. He looked down at the envelope Lip had in his hand and scowled and asked, "What the fuck did you do?" before he could even help himself.

His brother didn't look phased by his tone at all. He waved the envelope at him. "She's mine," he announced and Ian felt like he was going to be sick again, but he didn't quite know why. "I did a DNA test," he explained and it reminded Ian for a second of when Monica had turned up and he'd found out that he wasn't Frank's son after all, "She's mine."

Ian's mouth opened and closed again, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say to that. He didn't know what he possibly could say. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer when Linda appeared.

He could tell from the look on her face that she'd heard the sudden announcement.

"I'd pretend you never found that out if I were you," she warned harshly, her eyes cold and her expression completely serious, "You try and take Lilly, Mickey will bolt with her, no two ways about it." And Ian knew now that she wasn't joking, he'd seen the way that Mickey had looked at Lilly, he knew Mickey would run. "She's all he has," she said, her voice softening a little bit, "I know you probably don't give a shit about him, but trust me, you'll break him if you take her."

Ian wondered if Lip even could take her. Probably, with a DNA test, but then Mickey had told him that day he'd reappeared that Mandy had personally made him guardian. He felt guilty for being on Mickey's side, he didn't know why he was.

"You agree with her don't you?" Lip asked, scowling when Linda left.

Ian shrugged, " She has a point."

"I can't just do nothing!" Lip snarled at him and Ian wondered who he was trying to convince, "I'm her father and you think I should just do nothing!"

Ian wasn't going to feel ashamed of thinking that. "Being a parent is about doing what's best for your kid," Ian replied, even though neither of them had much experience with that, "You saw what she was like when Mickey was gone for a few days, she wouldn't stop staring at the door. Just think how she would be if you took her off him forever."

Lip scowled, "She could–"

"You would ruin her," Ian cut him off, trying to sound level and calm even though he didn't know how well he succeeded, "You see the way she adores Mickey, he'd her  _dad_ , Lip, whether or not that's technically true."

When Lip didn't say anything he added, "You can get another kid just from sticking your dick into Karen a few times. Lilly is all that Mickey has, it'd be cruel to take her away from him now." And he knew that came out sounding harsh, but it was true and he wasn't sure being calm was going to get through to Lip here.

He tried to stare his brother down.

"You heard what Linda said anyway; and she's right," he said, "You try and take her, Mickey will bolt and then you will never see Lilly again and I will never see him." And he knew it was selfish and completely not the point, but he couldn't lose Mickey again. He just couldn't.

Lip scowled, "So I'm losing my brother and my daughter to that guy."

He rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he retorted, "He only wants one of us and just look at it this way Lip, if you keep your mouth shut, she won't exactly be far from you, will she?"

And Mickey wouldn't be far from him.

"You're asking me to give up my daughter?"

Ian shook his head. "No, I'm asking you to do what's best for her," he said, not looking away from Lip's eyes, "To do what our parents never did and actually give that much of a shit to put her first."

He took Lip's silence and the small nod he gave before stalking out of the shop to mean that he'd do nothing. Lip didn't even have the means to look after a child anyway and they both knew Lilly didn't even like him, so if you thought about it logically, it was just a recipe for disaster.

Ian let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. He didn't see Mickey slip back out the back of the shop, he didn't know he'd been standing there the entire time, listening.


	16. Chapter 16

Mickey just sat there and watched Lilly to try and find some resemblance between her and Lip. He thought maybe she had his nose, but Mickey wasn't sure. She looked too much like Mandy for him to be able to tell if she looked like anyone else. Or maybe he just didn't want to see it.

He didn't know if he was glad he'd gone to the Kash and Grab to pick up his pay check instead of waiting until the next day or not. If he hadn't gone, he wouldn't have found out what he did, but he thought maybe it would have been better if he hadn't known.

He knew it was kind of stupid, but it had never actually occurred to him before that Lilly had a father out there somewhere, someone who wasn't him. The fact he had custody was something he kept wrapping around his barbed, worried thoughts like the flimsiest armour in the world. He knew that custody didn't mean jack shit in comparison with a DNA test and a fuck-up with a record before he'd even hit twenty would never stand a chance against a fucking genius like Lip.

Mickey scowled and wanted to run.

That would have been the simplest option, it was the one he was leaning towards more, but back when it had just been him it had been easy to run. Mickey didn't give a shit about things like sleeping on the streets or going hungry for a day or having to fight his way out of some places with his fists, but he couldn't do that to Lilly. Maybe it was called being responsible, maybe it was Ian's words to Lip about having to put yourself last that were getting to him, he didn't know. All he did know was that he wanted to grab a hold of Lilly and never let her go, because that was the other thing Ian had had right, she was all that he had.

Maybe it was selfish thinking that that should be the reason he should get to be her parent, because Lip could do so many things, he could have other kids, he could get out of this shitty neighbourhood and be someone, but Mickey couldn't. All Mickey had was Lilly. He knew that was fucking pathetic, but he'd never felt like he needed anything else, he'd never wanted anything else, but he wanted to keep her.

She wondered if she'd even remember him in a few years if Lip took her away.

Probably not, nobody ever remembered Mickey, he was just the dirt on the bottom of people's shoes that they always wanted to forget as quickly as possible because that was safer and that was always the better option.

Mickey didn't know what to think about Ian being the one to fight in his corner. He'd known Linda would, even if he wouldn't have ever expected it two years ago. Maybe he would have thought Ian would back him up against someone else, anyone else, but Lip was Ian's fucking idol most of the time, plus they were blood. He was supposed to take Lip's side, not Mickey's. Nobody was supposed to want to defend Mickey, but Ian had done, sort of, he'd tried to persuade Lip against taking Lilly anyway. Ian shouldn't even want to be near Mickey after what he'd said, or maybe time really did fix shit like that. He didn't think Ian would have forgotten, but maybe the redhead really was just that good at seeing through Mickey's bullshit.

_"He only wants one of us."_

_"I will never see him."_

His brain kept repeating those words around and around his head like some sort of fucking mantra. He kept trying to work out what that meant, he kept trying to work out if it was a good thing, if it meant Ian still actually felt something other than distaste or regret for him. He didn't like hoping, thought it was stupid, so he didn't like the track his thoughts were following. But he couldn't really help it.

It felt like his brain was panicking over Lilly and his heart was going into overload over Ian. He didn't know how to deal with either.

Lilly scowled and threw something at his head. He blinked when it bounced off his forehead and rubbed the spot, scowling at her. "Blink Daddy!" she said, raising another one of those foam balls that he'd replaced the golf balls with as soon as she decided she liked using him as target practice. His smart idea had probably saved the fish from certain death more than a few times as well.

She came over straight afterwards, as though she only just remembered that actually, Mickey's face wasn't something she wanted to be throwing things at because he was still sort of bruised and 'funny looking' as she'd informed him earlier that day. She pressed a sort of sloppy, sticky kiss to the battered side of his face and he smiled even though actually, that sort of hurt as well.

She went back to drawing then, like she didn't need to do anything more than that for throwing something at him. The thing was, she really didn't.

"So how much did you miss me?" he asked, feeling stupid because it was for his own piece of mind even though he was trying to sound joking and flippant. He thought she probably saw through it.

She stretched her arms out wide, "Dis much."

She grinned at him then, knowing she'd given the right answer. He had to laugh at her confidence.

While she drew, Mickey distracted himself from his thoughts by alternating between throwing grapes into his mouth and throwing them at Lilly. She caught on eventually and did exactly the same thing. Except that since she couldn't catch them in her mouth, throwing them at Mickey was far more amusing.

It eventually turned into an all-out war that had Mickey hiding behind the couch.

Even as he went to answer the door he was being bombarded with grapes and he couldn't help but laugh. He didn't think many other toddlers had such good aim. He prided himself on bringing that side of her out even if he hadn't really managed to teach her anything else productive.

Ian rocked back on his heels slightly when Mickey jerked open the door, looking surprised to see Mickey with an actual smile on his face. Mickey opened his mouth to speak, but only ended up ducking as a golf ball whizzed past his ear.

"There is a reason I hid those!" he said, spinning back around and narrowing his eyes at Lilly, "What the hell happened to the grapes?"

She just shrugged and gave him that goofy sort of smile that was too adorable to be mad at.

"Why did you give her golf balls in the first place?" Ian asked and Mickey jumped because he hadn't realised that he'd followed him back into the house.

He was going to say, "Because it was funny at the time," but then he realised exactly how this would probably look and grabbed Lilly up before she could do anything else. She didn't complain, just happily latched on to the bottom of his hair and tugged.

"What're you doing here?" he asked instead of answering Ian's question, because he couldn't think of anything that didn't sound bad.

Ian held up photo frame and smiled weakly, "Lilly left this behind."

They both knew that was a weak excuse, but Mickey wondered if it was an excuse to check out his parenting skills or an excuse to check him out. He definitely knew which one he would prefer, but then at the same time, that would only make him panic for a completely different reason.

Mickey looked at the picture of him and Lilly that Linda had taken. It was actually the only picture of them in existence. Mickey didn't like being photographed, it made him feel uncomfortable, just like this whole situation that he was in right then.

"You know you could have given me that at the store right?" he asked, eying Ian carefully and trying not to notice that the redhead had unzipped his coat and the shirt he was wearing underneath clung to his body in a way that had to be a sin. He resisted licking his lips, somehow.

Ian shrugged and looked nervous. "Maybe I just wanted to see Lilly," he said and Mickey could tell he was trying to be smooth and he was trying to pull off that fucking adorable expression he'd always had where he looked up through his lashes.

Except Mickey was too busy scowling for any of it to have an effect.

"I'm not going to fucking kill her, Gallagher," he snapped, "I've had two fucking years without you and your brother sticking your noses in, I think I know what I'm doing by now." He hadn't meant to let either of them in on the fact that he knew, it sort of ruined his ability to bolt.

And with the way Ian was staring at him, his eyes all wide and sort of sorry looking, he was really fucking considering it.

"I never thought you would," he said slowly, obviously thinking that maybe if he pacified Mickey then he wouldn't do anything drastic, "I don't think you're bad at this Mickey, I actually didn't expect you to be as good at it as you are."

Mickey snorted. "Look, just fuck off, yeah?" he asked, scowling, "Lilly needs to go to bed and I don't need you watching over me." Technically they were sort of passed her bedtime what with the whole grape war and everything, but oh well, it wasn't like he doubted she was going to wake up in the morning.

Of course, typically, Ian didn't fuck off, he just sat there on the back of the couch like he had any sort of right to be there at all. "It's like you want me to fucking hit you," Mickey said, scowling at him and trying to work out in his own head if he actually would do it.

Ian ignored him, like he'd always used to do. "You don't have any beers," he said.

"Oh fuck off," he snapped, wishing right then that he actually did, "I didn't decide to go on a fucking bender and drink everything in the house last night, I just don't have the fucking time or the money to be drinking."

"Mickey, calm down that wasn't what I meant," Ian was squirming uncomfortably, looking confused, but he also looked like he was having a hard time actually getting his head around the idea of Mickey not drinking. A part of Mickey couldn't really blame him, but it was a small part.

He still didn't stop scowling. "I fucking get it, okay, I'm a Milkovich I'm not supposed to be let anywhere near kids, but you can tell your brother that she's fine and she'll always be fine with me, so I don't need you coming over here with lame excuses to check up on me," he squared up to Ian, not liking the fact the guy was probably a good three or four inches taller than him, "You don't think I can do this, you made that pretty fucking clear from day one, but I can, so piss off."

He slammed his hands into Ian's chest and almost made him fall backwards over the back of the couch, but if he did fall, Mickey didn't stick around to find out. He stalked into the kitchen, needing something to do with his hands since otherwise he was going to hit something.

He opened the fridge in the lame hope that there'd be something alcoholic there, but then shut it again when he realised what the hell had started this whole conversation off.

"You know about Lip."

It wasn't a question, that much was obvious, but Mickey still answered it anyway. He told himself that was because someone had to fucking speak otherwise he thought the silence was going to choke him.

"Yeah."

"How did you find out?" Ian asked and Mickey didn't turn to look at him, he  _couldn't_ , "Did Linda tell you?"

Mickey snorted, but he supposed that probably was the best conclusion to jump to. "No I fucking heard you two," he snarled, slamming his hands down on the counter for no reason whatsoever other than he thought he maybe needed to feel the pain to ground himself, "At the Kash and Grab."

He heard Ian swallow behind him, which he thought was a stupid thing to be able to hear. It just proved how quiet the house was nowadays. "How much did you hear?" Ian asked and his voice shook ever so slightly, making Mickey think that maybe he was worried about something completely different that Mickey was.

"From DNA test to Lip storming out," he said, his voice sort of bitter, but he thought maybe he was allowed to be pissed at that. Even if it was more fear than anger.

"Mickey," Ian's voice was softer, gentler, like he was trying to be fucking calming or something, "Lip's not going to take her, he's not going to do anything."

And Mickey wanted to believe him, but his brain was screaming at him still to run anyway, to just get away from it all where nothing could affect them.  _So why did it feel like his feet were glued to the floor?_

He slammed his hands down on the counter again and jumped when Ian caught a hold of the back of his wrists. "Mickey, you're going to fucking break something," he said and Mickey wanted to look at him just as much as he wanted to not feel the electricity crackling through their hands. It suddenly felt like he was hyper charged and Mickey wasn't used to that, he didn't know what he was supposed to do with that; but he couldn't quite tear himself away either.

So he just stood there.

_"He only wants one of us."_

_"And I will never see him."_

Sometimes Mickey hated his brain, hated his tongue too and he hated it even more when the two acted without considering common sense at all. "Would you care if I went?" he asked, still not looking at Ian. He definitely couldn't now he'd asked that.

_What the fuck kind of question was that._

He blamed the fact that his head hurt and his hands hurt and the side of his face was throbbing still and he was tired and horny and Ian was standing far too close to him for him to know how to deal with. He blamed so many things, because if he didn't he was just going to have to face that fact that actually, he just really wanted to know the answer to that question.

Ian didn't say anything for a while, like he was wondering whether or not he should lie, like he was trying to work out if Mickey was going to hit him or not. Mickey didn't think it really mattered, he could always tell when Ian lied, it was like he could taste it on the back of his tongue.

"I. . ."

That was definitely worse though. No answer at all. A crappy answer that trailed off. Mickey couldn't work anything out from that, because there weren't enough words for it to be a truth or a lie.

He jerked away from Ian so suddenly he thought the younger guy jumped in surprise. Or maybe it was at the strange feeling of loss now that contact was broken. "You know what, forget it actually," Mickey said, rubbing a hand through his hair and trying to remember back to times when it had all been simple and he'd known exactly – well maybe not exactly – where he stood with Ian. "Pretend I never said that."

Ian tried to catch his hand again, no doubt in some sort of lame attempt to get Mickey to look at him. But Mickey wasn't going to, he  _couldn't_. If he looked at Ian then he was probably going to say something that he'd wind up regretting and he didn't want to make this any more fucking stupid than it had already gotten.

"You can't leave," Ian said in a strangely confident sort of way that almost,  _almost_  had Mickey look at him, "You can't leave me."

Mickey didn't know when this had become a situation of who left who, of them leaving each other behind rather than it being about Lilly. But then maybe it always had been. Something in Mickey's brain, some stupid part of his thoughts that he had absolutely zero control over was telling him that it had always been about Ian, that how could it not be?

He didn't know if he liked that part of his brain or not, because he didn't know if it was right yet.

"Don't even think you can fucking tell me what to do," he snapped, thinking maybe he should have looked at Ian then, but instead he stared at the wall like it had caused him some sort of deep offense, " _You_  left  _me_ , you were the one that went off to join the fucking army, not me."

This was all Ian's fault, that was right. He could tell himself that, couldn't he? He could make himself believe that he'd never done anything wrong, that the decision had always lain with Ian. He wondered if he believed himself, he thought probably not. He hoped that didn't show on his face.

"Yeah and you think I don't regret that?" Ian snapped back and Mickey could practically taste the anger clogging up the air now as it seeped out of both of them, became palpable, like a drug, "You think I like having a fucked up hand or I even fucking liked being in the army."

Mickey snorted, "I knew you wouldn't before you even fucking went."

"You could have told me."

Mickey snorted again, because that was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. "Yeah, because you would have listened," he snapped back, cracking his knuckles so that he had something to do with his hands, "You wouldn't have believed me and you still would have fucking gone, so what was the point in me telling you, what the fuck would have been the point?"

And he should have let Ian speak then, he knew the redhead was opening his mouth to, but Mickey was on a roll.

"And if it hadn't been the army, it would have been something else," he carried on, digging his hands into his own palms and looking anywhere but Ian, "You're too fucking good for this place, you were always going to get out, you were always going to leave and I was always going to fucking stay, so what would have been the bloody point of telling you to stick around? You still would have gone eventually!"

And that would have just dragged out the pain. It would have given Mickey more time to get attached. If he wasn't attached already. Or hadn't been. Did he still feel like he used to? Worryingly he thought he probably did. But Mickey wasn't good with words, never had been and he didn't have the vocabulary to explain how the fuck he'd felt. He didn't particularly want to either. He didn't know how to do stuff like that, didn't know how to handle it.

It made him feel like his brain was on fire, like every thought was dynamite. It made him feel like he was screaming under his skin and of course, nobody could hear him. Nobody would have given a shit even if they had.

He waited for the words, waited for Ian to say something,  _anything_. Because that was what Ian did. Ian talked, he jabbered on about nothing and everything all at once. He talked, he was good at talking. He'd always talked enough for the both of us, filling the silence.

Mickey wasn't good at talking and he wasn't good at waiting either.

He turned again, heading towards the door, not knowing where he was going, probably just his room to slam his head against the already dented wall. Normally he would have stormed out, he would have left, but with Lilly he couldn't do that. And Mickey didn't feel like he had the strength anymore to throw Ian out.

He didn't completely know whether or not he wanted to.

A hand caught a hold of his arm and jerked him back around with a strength that Mickey hadn't known Ian had possessed. He would have hit out, would have fought back and done something, but the mouth crashing down onto his sort of cut off all other thought process.

He didn't move for a moment, or maybe it was a minute, but Ian's mouth never left his and it didn't seem like he was expecting Mickey to do something. Which was why when Mickey's instincts kicked in, the instincts that went beyond fight or flight, that screamed  _stay,_ the redhead seemed surprised when Mickey moved. He actually felt the younger guy flinch as Mickey's hand raised up, but the tenseness in his body sort of evaporated when all Mickey did was pull him closer by the back of his neck.

Mickey dug his fingers into the bottom of Ian's hair, gripped the short strands and lifted his other hand to hold on to Ian's neck, pushing his fingertips against Gallagher's flesh just to sort of confirm that he was there.

Ian's tongue pushed against the seam of his lips and Mickey sucked on it briefly, feeling a moan build up inside of him when Ian's hands snaked around behind him to press against his ass, pulling him in closer. There wasn't any decision that was made, but suddenly Mickey was being walked backwards and Ian pushed him up onto the counter, which put him at about Ian's height.

He used that slightly advantage to jerk Ian in closer, to wrap his legs around the back of his thighs and pin him there, making sure he couldn't get away, couldn't move anywhere but closer. He could feel Ian's hand shaking slightly against the base of his spine, but didn't do anything other than notice it. It didn't bother him, he hardly even thought about it.

Ian moaned into his mouth as their tongues slid over and over in their mouths and Mickey swallowed the sound, biting down on Ian's bottom lip because he wanted to hear him moan again. And it worked, sort of.

The redhead pushed his hands into Mickey's hair when the ex-con's dropped down to tug at Ian's belt. He felt desperate and he put that down to the fact that he hadn't actually had anything other than his hand since he'd inherited Lilly. Not that he'd tell Ian that and he really didn't want to be thinking about Lilly right then.

There was a clattering sound as Ian's belt hit the floor and Mickey felt hands leave his hair and fingers slide into the waistband of his slacks. Ian had to pull away slightly to pull off Mickey's clothes and Mickey knew it was stupid, but he moaned slightly at the loss of contact, which made Ian smirk again.

Ian's hands gripped his waist hard as he pulled Mickey roughly closer so that his ass hung over the edge of the counter. There wasn't any waiting, no preparation, nothing but the sudden thrust forwards of Ian's hips.

The ex-con was convinced his brain stopped functioning for a minute there and he was thankful that his body moved on a sort of automatic mode, wrapping his legs around Ian's waist and his arms up around the thinner guy's shoulders. Ian just sort of fell against him, like he was too stunned to be able to move for a minute, his forehead resting against Mickey's chest, his breath coming out in these messed up pants. And Mickey couldn't really say he minded, it gave him time to adjust without seeming like a pussy.

It burned, but it felt so fucking good that Mickey couldn't bring himself to give a shit.

It wasn't just the fact he had a dick in his ass though, it was the fact that it was Ian draped over him like some sort of lanky, stupid, ginger blanket. The heat from his body was practically pulsing into Mickey, his touch scalding and addictive. Or maybe it was feeding an addiction, Mickey couldn't quite work it out.

He didn't really care.

Especially not when Ian started to move.

At first it was nothing more than a slow slide, torturous and amazing, creating this ache inside of Mickey that he couldn't explain, but he knew it wasn't because of anything physical. He moaned when Ian picked up the pace, his teeth latching onto the other guy's shoulder to try and muffle the sound. Ian gasped out at the feet of teeth in his skin and his hips jerked almost uncontrollably for a minute, which made Mickey smile around the flesh in his mouth.

"What's the matter, Gallagher?" he asked, pressing his mouth against the skin under Ian's ear, nipping at it and making the redhead shiver.

"I forgot you fucking did that," he ground out eventually, rolling his hips and making Mickey's eyes roll into the back of his head. He dug his heels into the base of Ian's spine, trying to silently communicate to do that fucking again.

He did and Mickey forgot to bite down this time to muffle his moan.

"You know you fucking love it," Mickey practically growled, not knowing why he was speaking and biting Ian again hard on the side of his neck. Half to reaffirm his point and half to shut himself up. The problem was, he did know that Ian loved that. Just like Mickey did. There was something about the bite of pain, the act of marking each other in that stupidly primal and brutal way that could push them both over the edge.

Ian didn't reply, but grabbed a hold of Mickey's hips again and pulled him even further off the counter, until the only support that his lower half had were the hands under his ass and his legs wrapped around Ian's lower back. But he couldn't complain, because the new angle was making him see stars and Ian had switched the pace to something that couldn't possibly be called anything other than a pounding.

It was fast and rough and dirty and Mickey fucking loved it.

He knew he wouldn't last long, knew it was impossible to even try. But he managed to hang on until Ian bit down on that tender part of his neck where his throat met his collarbone hard enough to draw blood and Mickey plummeted over the edge.

He squeezed Ian hard enough to him probably to break something, but the redhead didn't complain, he just clung to Mickey in the same frantically desperate way as Mickey's jizz splattered up both of their chests. Ian slammed home twice more before his whole body seemed to jerk and Mickey could feel the heat of Ian filling him.

"Fuck," Ian muttered, because he had to speak.

But thankfully he didn't move. He just stayed right where he was, although he did push Mickey a little further onto the counter so he didn't have to try and hold him up still. Mickey knew it was probably really stupid and kind of gay, but he couldn't stop himself from trailing his fingers up and down Ian's spine, relishing in the way the redhead squirmed against him.

He could feel the stickiness in between them, wondered when they'd taken their shirts off because he couldn't actually remember. Maybe it had been while they were kissing. . . probably. He didn't really care.

Ian's face was pressed into the side of his neck and randomly Mickey thought the guy was pretty fucking lucky that Mickey showered pretty frequently now. Now that he had time to stop and pause and actually collect up all the thoughts that were rattling around in his head, he realised he could smell the subtle hint of lime on Ian's flesh and couldn't stop himself from muttering, "I blame the bodywash."

Ian laughed, because annoyingly he understood Mickey and had worked out a long time ago that the ex-con kind of had a thing about that bodywash. "I was hoping you'd notice that," he muttered, his breath skirting across Mickey's sweat-damp skin and making him shiver. He couldn't work out if that was from need or cold. He thought probably need since with Ian pressed this close to him, he couldn't physically be cold.

"Does this mean you're not going to leave?" Ian asked, lifting up so that he rested onto his elbows and stared down at Mickey. Mickey didn't open his eyes because he knew that the redhead would be giving him that fucking dopey-eyed look that went straight to his balls and his heart and he didn't have the energy for the first or the strength for the other.

He thought that was a stupid question, so instead of answering, he just said, "Gallagher?"

Ian sighed, "Let me guess, shut the fuck up?"

"Wow, you do actually have a fucking brain," Mickey muttered and he could feel Ian's smile as he pressed a kiss against his collar bone, his tongue flicking out no doubt to swipe at the blood that had to be leaking from that fucking bite. Mickey didn't give a shit, he was too busy wondering when the hell he'd stopped panicking about the fact that Ian seemed to find him predictable.

"Mick?" Ian asked and the ex-con wondered if it would be cruel to smack him about the head right then.

"What?"

Ian kissed his bruised cheekbone randomly, which sort of annoying Mickey, but at the same time didn't; which annoyed him even more. "Could we at least move to the bed?" Ian asked, "I'm kind of getting cramp?"

When Mickey opened his eyes, he rolled them before he could stop himself. "Jesus Christ, Gallagher, could you be any more of a fucking girl?" he asked, not mentioning that actually the countertop was biting in to his spine in a way that wasn't completely comfortable.

Ian laughed and lifted off of him slightly, but not completely. "You wouldn't fuck me if I was girly," he said in a completely serious way that for some reason made Mickey smirk.

"You're an idiot," Mickey muttered, because they both knew that was true.

He didn't know why he didn't complain when Ian darted in for another kiss. Maybe it was because he knew they'd only make it as far as the couch before fucking again. Mickey was sort of psychic like that he decided.


	17. Chapter 17

Mickey never asked him to leave, so he didn't. He stuck around and he saw Mickey in a way that he didn't think anybody else had ever had the privilege of seeing him. He was so different around Lilly, it was like someone had thrown a switch inside of him and he was suddenly more alive than he had ever been. It was strangely beautiful.

The similarities between them were more prominent when they were together. When they ate, sitting side by side, it was terrifying how identical it was. Lilly watched Mickey and Mickey didn't even notice, he didn't see that she copied the little things that he did, made herself more and more like him with every passing minute.

The day he walked out of the bathroom to find Mickey lying in his boxers on the bed, on his front with Lilly putting random clips in his hair. He just stopped and stared at them for a minute, trying to work out whether or not he was high or just imagining things.

"Shut the fuck up, Gallagher," Mickey said, scowling, before Ian had ever gotten the chance to say anything.

Ian snorted, "Aww, I think you look pretty, Mick."

Mickey turned to face his daughter for a second and smiled, "I'll be right back."

He barely had time to run before Mickey was coming after him. Lilly squealed and laughed as Mickey tackled Ian onto the sofa, pinning him down and glaring down at him. Ian didn't even bother fighting, he just lay there and grinned.

Lilly didn't ask why Ian was suddenly there or why he stayed in the same room as Mickey and didn't seem surprised by any of it actually. Ian put that down to her being far too smart for a two year old and definitely far too smart for her own good.

They blended into some sort of routine, revolving around Lilly, breathing the same air almost constantly as they alternated between the Milkovich house and the Kash and Grab. The best times were when Mickey forgot he didn't want to touch Ian or be close to Ian in front of Lilly, the best times were when he forgot himself for a minute. The problem was only that he always remembered, every time, he remembered.

And then he was pissed.

Lilly's third birthday came and went and her fish died, so Mickey bought her two more and then when that didn't kill the devastated expression she wore like a permanent mask, he gave in and got her a mangy looking puppy from the rescue that was already missing a chunk of its ear. It was kind of an ugly creature, but Lilly didn't care and Ian had a feeling that she'd only been pretending to be upset about the fish so that Mickey would get her a dog. He told Mickey that theory and he just shrugged and said, "Probably, she's like Mandy, a devious little bitch."

But an adorable one, so they sort of overlooked the negative quality. Then again, considering she was a Milkovich and what neighbourhood she lived in, it wasn't all that negative.

Linda had changed their hours so they worked together basically every day and they hadn't even asked her to. Ian had a horrible feeling she knew they were fucking in the back of the storeroom on their breaks. She hadn't said anything, but it was that weird, knowing way that she looked at them sometimes.

"You can either put that back or spend the rest of your life drinking out of a straw, your choice," Mickey said in that casually threatening way he had down perfectly and two seconds later there was the sound of running footsteps and the slamming door as the shoplifting kid ran out of the store.

Ian looked up at Mickey and smirked, because he never really changed.

He sort of liked that fact if he was being completely honest, liked that he was still a dickhead but only he and Lilly got to see the sweeter sides of him.

"Fuck," Ian muttered as he dropped one of the bottles due to the suddenly rather violent shaking in his fucked up hand. Sometimes it wasn't so bad, other days it seemed like it might be better if he just didn't have a hand at all.

Mickey sauntered up to him, his expression collected and calm and he picked up the bottle to put it on the intended shelf and then just stood staring at Ian. On the floor by the counter, Lilly was sitting playing with Sid – Lilly liked coming up with stupid as shit names, her new fish were called Percy and Ralph.

"Come here," Mickey said, bracing his feel slightly apart and pushing his hands into his pockets, giving Ian what could only be described as an expectant look.

Ian frowned, "And you can't be the one to take the extra three steps, why?"

"Stop being a fucking smart ass, and come here."

Ian pulled a face, but it was impossible to resist the way Mickey was looking at him, it was in that way that seemed to make him forget himself. But it wasn't enough to make him forget the shaking in his hand, he pushed it behind his back like Mickey wouldn't notice it then.

The ex-con rolled his eyes.

When he stood opposite Mickey, the older boy reached out and grabbed him by the hips, pulling them against each other. Mickey's skin was hot, almost burning, warmed by the unusual spell of sunshine they'd had the last week. Ian was wearing a white tank top and the scar on his shoulder was visible, which he'd forgotten about in favour of the fact that Mickey always got especially wound up when he wore white – he thought it was probably the contrast with his hair.

Mickey's finger traced over the edge of the scar, which stood out pink against his skin and Ian flinched even though it didn't hurt. "What are you doing?" he tried to pull away, but the firm hand on his hip stopped him from moving.

"Distracting you," Mickey said simply, "You do know you don't shake when you don't think about it."

He didn't actually, but then he supposed to times when he didn't think about it was also the time he was buried balls deep inside of Mickey, so it wasn't the first thing on his mind by any stretch of the imagination.

Ian couldn't protest, even though he sort of wanted to when Mickey shifted the strap of his tank top aside and licked and nipped a path across Ian's scarred shoulder, towards his throat. Ian shivered at the contact, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help that Mickey tongue flicking over his Adams apple, swirling a circle over his pulse made his knees feel weak.

Mickey chuckled when a small gasp slipped out of Ian's throat and he swallowed the little moan that followed. As usual, Mickey wasn't one to hold back, the kiss was brutal and messy, but the emotion in it was raw and practically throbbing. Ian pushed his fingers into the sides of Mickey's hair and pulled him closer and Mickey's hands kept a firm hold of his hips.

He imagined that he could feel himself melting and the only thing that was keeping him just that little bit solid was Mickey's hands on him, holding him up. Mickey bit down on his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth as if he was trying to pull away the hurt.

Ian stared at him through his lashes and his mouth was just turning up into a smile when Mickey kissed him hard again, no doubt so that the ex-con would imagine that Ian hadn't been about to make it a moment or anything. That he hadn't been about to turn it into anything but a kiss.

"Aww Daddy loves Ian," Lilly said, giggling to herself and Mickey jumped away like Ian was suddenly on fire.

Mickey went red and it was actually the only time Ian had ever seen him blush, but suddenly he was bright red and fidgeting. "I need a smoke," he managed to choke out, "Can you watch Lilly for a minute?"

Ian only just managed to nod before Mickey was gone.

He smiled to himself before he could think not to. Mickey would probably never say it, Ian had accepted that by now, but he might as well have. Sometimes Ian could see it in the little things that Mickey did, like when he smiled at him properly or stared when he thought Ian wasn't looking. Or when he let Ian eat the last pot of his Jell-O or didn't push Ian off or move in the slightest when he fell asleep with his head on his shoulder. Ian could see it in the way he'd gasp out his name just before he came, the way the traced the scar on Ian's shoulder or forearm from all those years ago when they'd just started fucking without even realising he was doing that, or when he mentioned something Ian had told him back when they were teenagers that showed Mickey had been listening to him even then.

But things like this, or well. . . this thing, because there's never been anything like this that had happened before, this just made it stare them both in the face. It made it as clear as shouting it off the rooftop.

He lifted Lilly up onto the counter and grinned at her, taking a Snickers bar out of the box on the counter. "You know, you're actually  _the_  most amazing child I have ever met," he told her, "But I wouldn't say that again, and eat this quickly, otherwise your dad is going to have my nuts."

Lilly just grinned and demolished the Snickers bar in that scary way she'd gotten off of Mickey.

Sid pushed against his legs and he bent down to scratch his battered ears. "I thought you went off to war."

He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Kash's voice and had to half-catch Lilly as she almost fell off the counter. Because she was far too smart, when Ian put her down, Lilly held on to his bad hand to disguise the shaking.

"Kash, what are you doing here?" he asked, feeling the dog tense by his feet in response to the nerves rolling off of Ian.

He smoothed his thumb over the back of Lilly's hand, but it was more to calm him than her. She didn't look phased in the least, just curious as to why everything had suddenly gotten so tense and who exactly Kash was.

"I think I asked you that question first," he said, "You get bored of the army or something?"

Ian tensed even more if that were possible, because he didn't like talking about his arm. He hated it. He didn't like drawing attention to the fact that it had all been his choice to go there, that he had made that decision and technically it was all his fault if you thought about it that he was less than perfect now.

"Too bad he doesn't have to explain shit to you."

He felt the tension slide out of him at the familiar voice, something that didn't seem lost on Kash at all.

Ian could feel Mickey's body heat as the ex-con stood slightly in front of him and he didn't completely know why he did it, but he couldn't help but slide a finger through the back belt loop of Mickey's trousers. Like maybe that would hold him back, or maybe it was because maybe that would help keep Ian rooted down to earth. Mickey didn't complain though at the touch like Ian thought he maybe would.

He bites down on his bottom lip, waiting for Kash to say something, or maybe Mickey.

"Why are you still here?" Kash asked, staring at Mickey and Ian thought he'd maybe grown a pair wherever the hell he'd been all this time, but he looked away again pretty quickly and Ian figured,  _maybe not_.

"Because I'm a likable fucking person," Mickey sneered, "Why the fuck did you even bother coming back, you think anybody actually wants you here?" Kash flinched, which was the intent. Mickey's words were designed to hurt.

There was a pause and then Kash decided to switch the conversation topic again.

"Don't tell me he's the reason you quit the army?" he asked, looking at Ian, his hands hanging limp at his sides, "It isn't worth it throwing your life away for guys like him, I thought you were smarter than that."

Ian watched Mickey's fists clench and unclench.

"You don't know shit," Ian said, wishing he was able to pull of that expression of Mickey's where he bared his teeth. It would have been the perfect moment to use it. He didn't know why he actually stopped to think that.

His brain felt all over the place.

In Lilly's grip, his hand shook a little and she tugged on his fingers, flashing him a smile when he looked down at her. He picked her up, holding her on his hip and her fingers dug into the back of his hair in that way that he had become accustomed to. He was sort of glad for holding her there, because Kash hadn't noticed the scar yet and right then, Lilly was covering it.

"What did you feed her?" Mickey asked suddenly, randomly.

Ian blushed when he noticed the chocolate smeared around Lilly's mouth. Apparently, they weren't as good at hiding things from Mickey as he would have hoped. Not that he had anything he wanted to hide from the ex-con; other than the fact he'd probably just ruined Lilly's lunch.

"She was hungry," he said sheepishly.

"Bullshit," Mickey snorted, "If she was hungry you would have given her lunch, not a fucking Snickers bar."

He gave Mickey his very best apologetic expression, but Lilly's timidly spoken, "Sorry Daddy," probably had more effect.

"You two are like some fucking tag team," Mickey muttered, glaring at them, even though his expression softened when he looked at Lilly, as always, "Both know how to look fucking cute, like a kicked puppy or something."

Ian laughed, "Aww Mick, you think I'm cute."

He saw Mickey's mouth open, no doubt to tell him to fuck off or something to that effect when the intercom crackled. "Mickey can you do me a favour and punch the asshole standing in front of you," Linda asked and Ian felt more than saw Mickey grin.

"Don't even think about it," he said, grabbing the back of Mickey's shirt and jerking him backwards as Kash flinched, "Cause you know he'll grass and you'll wind up in jail again." And he didn't know how he'd be able to cope with that, he really didn't.

Mickey pulled a face.

"Unless you want to leave," Ian muttered, trying to make himself sound hurt, but they both knew he wasn't really.

"Haven't we already had this conversation?" Mickey asked, seeing right through him.

Ian shrugged, "Well, I wouldn't mind having it again, I kind of liked the ending."

Mickey just chose not to say anything to that.

Linda's voice on the intercom told Kash to come upstairs if Mickey wasn't going to hit him and the guy bolted up there in case Mickey changed his mind. They could hear Linda's yelling through the ceiling and it made Mickey smirk, Ian flinch and Lilly was just happily uncaring as she played with Sid again.

"Eat it."

Ian came back from taking a piss to find Lilly sitting on the counter with Mickey in front of her. He held a piece of sandwich in front of her face and scowled.

"No."

"Eat it," Mickey repeated.

"No."

"Fine then, I'll eat it," he started to raise it towards his lips, the look in his eyes devious.

"No!" she screamed at him, smacking him on the side of the head just to help get her point across.

"Eat it then," he offered the piece of sandwich to her again.

Mickey just shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said and the food made its way towards his mouth again. Except Lilly screamed again and snatched it off of him, stuffing it into her own mouth and glaring at him defiantly.

Mickey laughed, "See that was what I thought."

Ian couldn't help the snort that escaped him. "Good parenting skills there, Mick," he commented, scratching the top of the dog's head when it crashed against his legs hard enough to almost knock him to the floor.

"Shut up," Mickey snapped at him, "This is your fault anyway, you're the one that had to give her the fucking Snickers bar."

He smirked and moved around the counter so that he stood behind Mickey. He draped his arms down over his shoulders and rested his chin on Mickey's shoulder, not letting the ex-con dislodge him even though he tried. "You can punish me later," he muttered in Mickey's ear in that voice he knew drove the older guy insane. Or at least it had used to.

It proved it still did when Mickey shuddered and leant back ever so slightly into Ian's body.


	18. Chapter 18

Linda was on a mission to do things to piss Kash off.

Which was why she gave both Ian and Mickey the day off and promised to babysit Lilly so that they could have some 'alone' time. Something she made sure to emphasise in front of Kash before telling him he had to work that day. He wasn't stupid enough to try and argue with her, she was like a woman possessed. More so than usual.

And that was how Mickey came to be lying on his bed still at about midday, half asleep but unable to quite get there since it was far too fucking hot. There was a crappy fan in the corner of the room, but all that really seemed to be doing was stirring up the hot air in the room.

Mickey pounded the pillow underneath his head.

"How was the cold shower?" he asked when he heard Ian come out of the bathroom opening his eyes a slit when the other guy didn't answer.

He was standing there at the foot of the bed, a towel around his waist and his skin shining with moisture. Water droplets clung to his short hair and Mickey watched one as it ran down Ian's torso. He licked his lips and felt his dick twitch, but it was sort of hard to hide his arousal given that he was lying there naked.

"Ineffective now," Ian replied, taking in Mickey as much as he was taking in the redhead.

Mickey shifted his arm behind his head and smirked, wondering what Ian saw when he looked at him. Then he figured that he actually probably didn't want to know. "Oh is that right?" he asked, unable to help the staring at Ian unfastened the towel from around his waist and let it puddle at his feet.

He climbed onto the bed and straddled Mickey's hips and the ex-con practically choked on his own moan as his cock nestled against Ian's ass. He reached out to hold on to Ian's thighs, his eyes sliding shut a little as the redhead started to trace patterns on Mickey's chest.

"You do know it's too hot to fuck, right?" Ian asked, staring down at him with those fucking eyes that made Mickey feel like he was seeing right through him. Ian's dick stood up proud to attention against his belly, but Mickey couldn't tear his away from Ian's eyes. He didn't know how the hell that worked.

"You know we've already had this discussion and just like last time, you're going to fuck me anyway, right?" Mickey asked, smirking slightly because he couldn't help himself. He lifted his hands off of Ian's thighs and folded the behind his head, confident now for some absurd, unknown reason.

The smile that broke out across Ian's face made Mickey uncomfortable. He squirmed and they both groaned slightly as Mickey's dick rubbed up against Ian's ass. "You remember that?" Ian asked, sounding surprised, which Mickey thought was sort of offensive but probably warranted.

He wanted to shrug, but it would only really look stupid in the position he was in. "And you don't?" Mickey retorted, even though his tone was far from harsh like it would normally be, "That was a good round, Gallagher, even I can admit that."

Not that he would admit exactly how said round had made him feel, because he wasn't supposed to feel anything else other than satisfaction when a cock filled him. He wasn't supposed to feel emotions, but then lately, Mickey hadn't been doing anything that a Milkovich was  _supposed_ to do.

Ian smiled and leant forwards so that his face hovered just above Mickey's. "Of course I remember," he said, his voice seductive sounding and it made Mickey smirk because if he didn't he was going to smile and that would just be fucking stupid.

When Ian closed the distance and pressed their mouths together, Mickey moved his hands from behind his head and slid them down Ian's back, digging his fingertips into the cheeks of the redhead's ass.

He flipped them, after a minute or so of mindless kissing, of Ian's tongue tracing his bottom lip, tangling with his, after another minute of teeth clashing and slithers of pain as blood was drawn from a nip at Ian's bottom lip. The flipped them then, rubbing their shafts together and moaning right along with Ian, lifting his legs and locking them behind his lower back. Mickey liked controlling this, he liked feeling like he was starting to melt into Ian, both from the heat burning in between them and the heat around them from the weather.

Ian squirmed underneath him, his mouth trailing along Mickey's throat, nipping at it. And it was that scrape of teeth that made Mickey see stars, but it was probably because that action was coupled with Ian's hands sliding down and his fingernails digging into his ass.

He made a ridiculous sound in the back of his throat when Ian's finger pushed inside of him with no preparation whatsoever. Sometimes he thought maybe he preferred it that way, that maybe he craved the burn as much as the pleasure. Then again, Mickey had always seen pain and pleasure as coming hand in hand.

He slapped Ian's hands away, saw the flash of hurt in the redhead's eyes when he stood, but it faded as soon as Mickey dropped back down so that this time he straddled Ian's hips. He dug his fingers into Ian's ribcage for no reason and the redhead sat up, somehow managing to awkwardly turn them so that his back was against the wall, Mickey's legs still bracketing his hips.

Mickey leant down and sucked on Ian's bottom lip, pushing his tongue inside the hot cavern of Ian's mouth and swallowing down the younger guy's moan. He knew Ian could feel the muscles of Mickey's back jumping and twitching under his hands as he ran them down his spine, but Mickey couldn't bring himself to care.

He didn't know why he noticed the fact that the hand that came to rest on his hip didn't shake in the slightest, he didn't know why that made him smile against Ian's mouth. Or maybe he did, maybe he'd known it all along, but that didn't mean he had to admit to it. He didn't ever know if he would admit to it.

Lilly had said the words aloud the other week and Mickey had practically bolted out of the store, muttering some lame excuse so that he could stand outside in the stifling heat, feeling like the air was choking him, desperately sucking on three cigarettes in a row like that way he could relax and forget that anything had even been said. He didn't want to think about love, about commitment and the future, he knew Ian probably did that enough for the both of them.

But it was in moments when he sat straddling Ian's lap, feeling the softness of his hair, the hard muscles under his hands and the taste of him on his tongue, it was when that fucking scent of lime bodywash wrapped around him like some sort of messed up blanket that he couldn't come up with any reason why not. He'd tried to, but he couldn't think of a single fucking thing when Ian was kissing him, when he was buried balls deep inside of Mickey and Mickey was feeling things that had to be illegal.

And then there were the moments when every fibre of Mickey's being suddenly started screaming, " _Mine_." Like when Kash had appeared and Mickey had walked in to see the tense set of Ian's shoulders and hear the question that Gallagher hated ringing through the air, hovering there like a constant reminder that Ian had a fucked up limb now. It was at times like that that he just lost it, that he wanted to hit something, tear someone apart until maybe time was reversed and Ian didn't hurt inside anymore every time his hand shook. It was at times like that that he became stupidly protective and sappy and he couldn't make sense of the thoughts in his head because he just wasn't used to them. But sometimes he thought that maybe he didn't mind them, because sometimes he felt like maybe he was alive to protect Ian from things that he couldn't save himself from.

Mickey didn't know, he didn't think he ever would.

"God, Mick," Ian gasped out as Mickey lifted up and positioned himself just right, sort of hovering there like he was waiting for some sort of signal. And maybe that gasp had been it, because he slammed himself down suddenly, uncaring for the discomfort or the burn, unable to focus on anything but the sudden blinding pleasure that seared through his brain, that made him feel like he was on fire.

He thought he may have screamed, or maybe that was Ian. He couldn't tell anymore.

They didn't move for a few minutes and Mickey stared down at Ian with his eyes screwed tight shut, knew he was trying to scrabble for some control so that he didn't come right then. Mickey skimmed his mouth over the redhead's, drawing a shiver from the body underneath him and that was when Mickey lifted up again and started his slow ride, his slow possession of Ian's body.

Ian didn't even really move save for the occasional, probably involuntary jerk of his hips. Sometimes it felt like he was spasming underneath Mickey and the ex-con couldn't explain why that lack of control that Ian had only turned him on more.

He buried his fingers in Ian's short hand for support, relishing the feeling of Ian's fingertips biting into his hips, guiding him only slightly when Mickey came down and Ian's dick hit that perfect spot inside of him that made his muscles quiver, his breathing stutter and his brain shut down. That was what Ian had to take over, in those moments when Mickey forgot everything but that feeling, Ian would grip Mickey's hips and pull him down hard, doing. . . something. . . that Mickey couldn't quite work out that dragged out the feeling for Mickey.

Mickey came first, his orgasm just seeming to creep up on him and he made this completely surprised noise when it hit. He clutched at Ian, his arms tight around the redhead's neck, the younger guy's face pressed into his neck, his breath too hot against his skin. Mickey came spurting jizz up between their chests and Mickey pressed himself even closer as he remembered that stupid thought of them being stuck together, left over from all those years ago, just that one thought.

"F-fuuuck," Ian's nails scraped down Mickey's bag, his hips jerking upwards erratically as he came just seconds after Mickey. Mickey could feel a pounding in his chest and wondered if it was his own heart or Ian's that he was feeling. He thought maybe both, he didn't have the brain power or the inclination to think about it really.

They stayed like that, pressed together until Mickey got cramp and begrudgingly extracted himself from Ian lifting off of his dick and loving the feel of jizz dribbling down his thighs. He didn't know why. He couldn't remember when they'd stopped using condoms, just remembered something about Ian waving a piece of paper that said he was clean and Mickey already knowing he was because he was sort of obsessive about shit like that.

"I think my toes are numb," Ian muttered randomly when neither of them thought to say anything, pressing his face into Mickey's chest when the ex-con didn't complain. In fact, he was far from doing so, wrapping his hand around Ian's back and pulling him in even closer, not caring for even a minute about the heat that pressed in against them from all sides.

If he had to die of overheating, he'd be pretty fucking glad to do it right then.

"Good for you," Mickey muttered back, not really having enough brain cells at that moment to think of anything else to say.

"Do you want a drink?" Ian asked, his fingers tracing a pattern on Mickey's pec, his breath creating another as it skirting across the ex-con's skin.

The answer was in fact yes, he needed a drink really fucking badly, but he didn't say that. "Don't even think about moving," he said harshly, digging his fingers into the bottom of Ian's back just to help get the point across.

"Why?" Ian asked, his voice teasing, cocky. But Mickey could tell that he wasn't expecting an answer. And maybe that was why Mickey gave him one. Or maybe it was because Mickey didn't quite know where his common sense, where all of his ground rules or his hatred of emotions had gone. It could have been because Mickey wanted to say it, or it could have been for no reason at all.

He figured he had to say it sooner or later, but it wasn't like Gallagher didn't know it already anyway.

"I love you," Mickey muttered, the words quiet and barely audible in the room, but at the same time it sounded like he'd shouted them. "But that doesn't mean I won't rip your tongue out of your head if you piss me off," he added, because he had to make a threat, he had to fill the silence in which Ian was just staring at him.

He saw the slow grin out of the corner of his eye and then Ian darted in and pressed a firm kiss to Mickey's mouth. "I know," he said, laughing and Mickey did the only thing he really could think of to do in the face of that over-confidence.

He pushed Ian off the bed and onto the floor.


	19. Chapter 19

Ian woke up on his back with his head turned to the side, nose pressed against the side of Mickey's neck, breathing in the smell of sweat and Mickey. Mickey was on his front with his face smushed into the pillow in that way he always slept. Sometimes Ian wondered how he could possibly breathe, but then he definitely was if the snores rattling out of his chest were anything to go by.

The bedsheet was hanging low on their hips, clinging to their damp flesh as the heat in the room was nearly stifling. But Ian didn't move away from the heat of Mickey's body, not even when an arm lifted and draped itself possessively over Ian's stomach.

Ian scratched at the dried jizz just above where Mickey's arm was and didn't know why that made him smile. In his sleep, Mickey mumbled something, but the sound was muffled by the pillow, the words indiscernible.

The clock beside the bed read four o'clock in the afternoon, so they hadn't slept for that long. After Mickey had pushed him off the bed, Ian had grabbed a hold of his ankle and pulled him down as well and they'd wound up fucking on the floor, hard and furious, just like normal. Except there was an edge to it now, something that made it mean all the more, made the teeth in Ian's shoulder and the bruises on Mickey's hips twice as possessive. Because Mickey had said it. Right when Ian had accepted that he was never going to say it, Mickey had done.

He wasn't stupid enough to think that it would be a regular occurrence, Mickey would probably never say it ever again. But that was okay, because he'd done the impossible and said it at all. Ian thought that maybe it was the heat, finally getting to Mickey's head after the round of sex they'd had, but he could see the decision being made in Mickey's eyes before he'd said it and he didn't think he'd ever really get to understand the reasoning behind it.

He didn't need to understand Mickey completely, especially not when Mickey didn't understand himself half the time. He knew the ex-con better than anybody, that was enough. Just like Mickey saying it once was more than enough. It was more than he had ever hoped for, so how could it not be enough.

"I love you too by the way," he whispered when he realised he hadn't said it back. He knew Mickey was asleep, knew he wouldn't really hear it, maybe think he was dreaming or something, but it was probably the safest time to say it. And he had to say it even though he didn't have to, even though Mickey already knew it. He had to say it because he'd never been allowed to say those words aloud, not to Mickey. He probably wasn't allowed now actually, but Mickey was asleep so it didn't matter.

The older boy fidgeted again, turning his face so that it was inches away from Ian's, like he'd heard, like he was seeking something out. Ian smiled stupidly as Mickey's breath hit his mouth and leant in to press a tiny kiss to the ex-con's lips. Mickey wouldn't ever have let them kiss like that if he had been awake. Their kissing was about pouring raw feelings and promises of everything that would happen later into each other, without having to say the words. They weren't like other couples, they didn't kiss hello, or goodbye or thank you. No, they kissed to shut each other up, to silently say they were horny, for no reason at all other than to catch the other by surprise.

Ian knew there were so many things that he would never say to Mickey, simply because he liked having his tongue still in his head. Sometimes he felt like tearing his hair out with the need to confess something to the guy, but no matter how much he searched for the words inside of his head, they never came because he knew Mickey wouldn't want to hear them. He knew Mickey wouldn't want to hear them because he already knew everything Ian wanted to say.

Sometimes Ian wanted to tell him that Mickey was all he ever thought about, that he was all he could ever want even if he wasn't perfect. He wanted to say that he could imagine them being there together forever, side by side in this bed until the world imploded around them. He wanted to say that he didn't know what he'd do if he ever lost Mickey, he wanted to say that it chewed him up inside to think of having to exist in a world where Mickey wasn't. He wanted to say that Mickey's skin was the best thing he'd ever felt, his taste was the best one that had ever been on his tongue. He wanted to say that Mickey was everything, that sometimes when he looked at Ian, it made him feel like his skin was on fire, or that he'd just burst open from all of the unsaid things that hung between them.

He wanted to tell Mickey how much every single kiss, every single touch meant, but he knew he never would. He'd never say the words, not one of them. He'd show it with every reciprocated touch and kiss, every not-so-subtle glance. He knew he'd show it, but he'd never say it. It was just like he knew that he'd never marry Mickey, he'd never get Mickey to willingly confess to any sort of commitment between them. He'd probably never be kissed in public, he'd never hold Mickey's hand when walking down the street and probably never within the privacy of their own home either. Mickey would never completely open up, he'd always make Ian guess.

But none of that mattered because he knew that he'd still love Mickey until the day that he died because Mickey was like some sort of drug and the more Ian had him, the less time he could let pass until he needed his next fix. Ian was addicted, well and truly. And that was alright, because he knew that Mickey was just as addicted to him, even if he'd never say so.

He stroked his fingers down Mickey's forearm that lay over his stomach and touched their foreheads together ever so gently. Mickey looked oddly at peace when he was asleep, it was strange, but oddly beautiful.

When someone knocked loudly on the front door, Mickey didn't stir. He always gave Lilly stick for being able to sleep through an earthquake, but Ian knew it was a trait that she had picked up from the Milkovich side of the family. Mickey frowned in his sleep when Ian gently lifted his arm off of his waist and shimmied out from underneath it. When he stood up off the bed, the person at the door knocking again more insistently, Mickey edged over into the place where Ian had been lying, like he was seeking out the heat from his body or something.

Ian thought that kind of said it all since it was technically far too hot for them to be comfortable being within breathing distance.

He dragged on a pair of slacks that were on the floor, the pocket heavy with the wait of a wallet and he had to wear them low since they were a little short, which meant they were most likely Mickey's. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and scratched the rest of the dried jizz off of his chest before padding across the house to the front door.

He thought maybe it would have been Linda with Lilly, even though they weren't due back for a while, but he certainly hadn't expected Fiona to be standing there. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, knowing it was probably rude that he hadn't just let her in straight away, but it wasn't like there was any difference in heat between the inside and outside of the house.

"I came to ask you the same question," she replied, her arms folded across her chest, "It's been months, Ian, we never see you at home, you definitely never sleep there anymore, but whenever I ask you say you haven't moved in here."

Her lips curled up into an expression of disgust, "Not that I could really blame you."

No doubt she thought the inside of the house would be just as bad as it had always been. She'd be in for a surprise if he did decide to let her in, he hadn't quite made up his mind yet.

"I haven't officially moved in here because nobody's said I can," he explained, even though he thought Mickey's announcement earlier probably classed as permission to do so, "But I haven't been asked to leave, so I guess I kind of am living here, yeah."

Fiona frowned, "Why?"

He didn't know how to explain that one.

"Is this because of Mandy?" she asked without waiting for him to answer, which usually annoyed him, but this time he was sort of glad for it, "Does it make you feel closer to her or something, because you know that isn't really a proper reason to tolerate Mickey."

Ian half-smiled, "Trust me, it's easier than you think."

He didn't know if he was allowed to tell Fiona, didn't know if Mickey would kill him for it, but he let her into the house at least.

"Mickey's sleeping," he warned her as she edged past him, noting her scowl when she realised there wasn't actually any air con in the house, "And he'll be pissed if you wake him up."

It would take a lot to wake him up, but he still knew that Mickey would be pissed if he was.

Fiona just shrugged like she really didn't care. "You got a drink?" she asked, wandering through into the kitchen without waiting for him to answer, "I could do with a beer."

"No beer," he said quickly, "But there's a whole lot of juice."

Lilly had a bit of a thing for juice.

Fiona pulled a face, "Let me guess, you drank it all already and he's actually in there sleeping off a hangover." She pointed towards Mickey's room, where they could hear the soft snores coming from still.

It was difficult, but Ian managed to restrain his smile when he heard them.

"No, we don't really drink actually," he admitted, "Which yeah, I know you probably won't believe me about, but we don't have the time what with Lilly and everything."

Fiona cracked a proper smile at the mention of Lilly. "Aww, how is she?" she asked, "Is she here?"

"No Linda has her for the day," he said, "And she's still as cute as ever, I can show you a picture if you like, there's probably one in here." He took out Mickey's wallet and opened up the little compartment at the back because he knew there were pictures in there, he'd seen Mickey showing them to Linda.

Fiona was frowning again, recognising that that wasn't Ian's wallet, "Are you wearing Mickey's slacks?"

He couldn't help it, he blushed, "Yeah, they were the first thing I grabbed before answering the door."

She looked like she wanted to make a comment about that, but maybe didn't know exactly what she wanted to say. And then there was a shout through from the other room, like Mickey was psychic or something. "Gallagher, where the fuck are my slacks?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm wearing them, put mine on or something!"

"Gallagher, not everyone has gorilla limbs, just give me my fucking trousers!" Mickey shouted back and Ian could hear the sleep in his voice, knew he wasn't really meaning what he was saying seriously.

"Mick, just put some boxers on," he replied, before asking, "You want something to eat?"

Mickey didn't answer because they both knew the answer to that. He pulled a photo out of the wallet and handed it to Fiona before digging around in the contents of the fridge. "You want anything, Fi?" he asked his sister as he started shoving random things on a sandwich for Mickey. The guy would eat literally almost anything, so it really didn't matter what was on it.

"I'm fine thanks," she replied eventually, smiling at the photo, "She still looks just like Mandy."

Ian nodded and put the photo back in the wallet, which he shoved back into his pocket. Mickey wandered in right on time, black boxers slightly askew on his hips, which involuntarily made Ian lick his lips. Mickey looked unsurprised to see Fiona there as he went about getting drinks, sliding one across to Ian as he sat down and bit into his sandwich. He didn't say thank you, but the grin he gave Ian was sort of the same thing.

"See, wasn't so hard to put boxers on, was it?" Ian commented, guzzling down half of the drink that he'd needed since before the first round of sex earlier.

"Fuck you," Mickey mumbled through his mouthful.

Ian could see Fiona's face twist into one of disgust, obviously she didn't approve of Mickey's table manners – or rather lack of.

Normally Ian would have made a joke about how he would have gladly fucked him, but with Fiona there he thought that was probably the fastest way to get Mickey to punch him in the face, so he resisted.

"You both still working at the Kash and Grab then?" Fiona asked, looking more at Mickey, like she was surprised he'd managed to hold down a job for anything more than a few months. "Even now Kash is back?"

Mickey snorted, "More chance of Linda giving him the boot than us, trust me."

And he was right about that one.

"Oh, she give you both the day off then?"

Ian nodded, "Yeah, she made Kash look after the store and babysat Lilly for us, it was more to piss him off than for our benefit though."

"Like it doesn't piss him off enough that I work there," Mickey muttered, "Not that I'm fucking complaining though, still it's funny how much he hates me."

"I think we worked out that he hates you a while ago, Mick," Ian said, "You know. . . when he  _shot_  you over a Snickers bar." Of course, they both knew it hadn't really been over a Snickers bar.

Mickey pulled a face, "Yeah, but who's fault was that?"

Ian stared at him, "Yours."

He snorted, "Bullshit."

"Mick, you were the one who had to go back and wind him up," Ian pointed out, "I didn't make you do that, you can't blame me for this one."

"Fine, the cop one was definitely your fault though."

Ian scoffed, "You keep saying that, but I really don't see the logic there."

"Don't kill Frank, he won't say anything,  _please Mickey_ , don't kill Frank," Ian scowled at Mickey's impersonation of him, hoping to hell it wasn't accurate otherwise he really wanted to slit his own vocal cords. Mickey smirked at him from across the table.

"You tried to kill Frank?"

He'd totally forgotten that Fiona was there.

Mickey just shrugged, "Yeah, but I didn't, did I?" In Mickey's mind, the fact that Frank was still alive excused the fact he'd tried to. Ian supposed it sort of did, but it was still the attempt that was no doubt freaking Fiona out. He could see it in her eyes.

"Why would you try and kill Frank?" Fiona asked slowly, her eyes darting to Ian like she was trying to work out how the hell he was willing to sleep under the same roof as a guy who talking about murder like other people discussed going to the zoo.

Then again, Ian had seen inside the cabinet that Mickey had chained up and moved into the other room, away from Lilly. The sheer number of weapons in there were scary, but it sort of proved that the Milkovich's had earned their reputation.

"Why wouldn't I?" Mickey countered and Ian kicked him under the table. He scowled and pointed to Fiona, "Does she know?"

He looked like it would surprise him if she didn't.

"Why would she?" he asked, knowing he was probably confusing the fuck out of Fiona, but he wanted to see what Mickey would do.

"Maybe because you're the gobbiest Gallagher of them all and secrets actually seem to burn holes in your fucking brain," Mickey retorted, but there was no malice in the words, it was like he was stating a well-known fact and Ian supposed for a minute that he probably was, "So she doesn't know then?"

At this point Fiona decided to chip in to the conversation again, "I don't know what?"

"That I fuck your brother on a regular basis," Mickey said casually, standing up and scratching his balls, "I'm gonna go piss, have fun." He smirked at Ian's astounded expression and then walked off out of the room.

There were a long few minutes of silence where Fiona just stared out after Mickey like she was trying to work out whether or not she had actually just heard Mickey right. "Really?" she asked eventually, " _Mickey Milkovich_?"

Ian shrugged, "He has. . . hidden qualities."

Fiona just snorted, "Which means he's good in the sack."

The blush spreading across Ian's cheekbones probably answered that just as well as any words could have.


	20. Chapter 20

Mickey smirked as he sauntered out of the room. He didn't know why he'd just said that, he wouldn't normally have. Maybe it was because he figured that since he'd already said 'I love you' he could at least face one of the Gallaghers he knew was going to be trustworthy. If announcing that and then walking off was facing them.

All Mickey knew was that he didn't like the stupid feeling of panic he felt when he woke up without Gallagher's stupid body lying next to him. He'd woken up where Gallagher was supposed to be, the stale air in the room smelling like sweat and jizz and the bed sheets smelling of lime bodywash. He'd relaxed when he'd heard Ian moving about in the other room, talking to someone, but it was that minute before hand where he just sat up and looked around stupidly that pissed him off.

He thought coming out to Ian's stupid big sister was at least a good way of making him want to stick around for longer. That was Mickey's reasoning anyway.

A lot of people would probably think that Mickey's brain was sort of fucked up, even Mickey did since he kept going back on all the rules he had had clearly laid out. But then sometimes he just couldn't bring himself to care, like when he saw that surprised expression on Ian's face that looked like he'd expected Mickey to hit him not say something like he had instead. He loved that expression, because it usually led to grateful sex and Ian stepped it up in bed when he was grateful for something.

Mickey lay back on the bed, stretching his arms behind his head and listening to the sounds of Ian and his sister moving around on the other side of the door. He could hear them talking, joking around, but he couldn't hear the words exactly, not until they moved closer, obviously in the living room now.

"Okay, but seriously, Ian,  _Mickey Milkovich_?" Fiona asked and Mickey tensed, because he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to this, knew he wasn't supposed to. And he also knew it wasn't supposed to be something that he gave a fuck about. Mickey never cared about what people thought of him, but he cared about what Ian thought, maybe, definitely. He didn't want to admit to that though, never would, but he could think it in the privacy of his own head.

"There's no need to say it like that," Ian said, his voice chiding.

He heard Fiona sigh, "Ian, he's the neighbourhood thug, fucking him can't be a good idea, even if he is good between the sheets."

Mickey let himself smirk at that comment, but it felt strange because he was still scowling.

"Trust me, you don't know anything about him," Ian said and Mickey felt his heart stutter in his chest at the conviction he heard in Ian's voice, "He's not a bad guy, not inside, he just likes to make everyone think he is."

"Ian, he went to Juvie twice before he was even nineteen, one for getting shot and the other as an alternative to killing Frank," Fiona said and he could almost imagine her ticking things off on her fingers, "He beat up Lip way back when, he's definitely got a screw loose upstairs, he's completely unpredictable and more than a little bit unstable. . . and you're honestly going to tell me that is good for you?"

Mickey could feel the blood pounding in his ears, could feel the world spinning around him.

"It's not just because he's a good fuck," Ian said slowly and Mickey screwed his eyes shut because he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the words, the excuses, "And I don't care how he is, he'd different with me, he's just. . . I don't know, he's like the best thing you could imagine, he's what's good for me Fi."

Mickey kept his eyes screwed tight shut.

"He's a little rough around the edges, but that just makes him as hot as hell," Ian said and Mickey could hear the belief ringing through his words, he wanted to believe him as well, "He wouldn't hurt me anymore than I would hurt him."

He heard Fiona snort, "I'd believe that a little more if you didn't have a bite mark on your shoulder that by the way is still bleeding."

Mickey didn't know how he knew Ian shrugged then, because he couldn't hear that, but he knew he did it. "That doesn't count," Ian said quickly, "And besides, the bruises on his hips sort of make up for it."

They hurt each other just the same. And it wasn't even a hurt. Mickey would push his fingers against the bruises on his hips and he knew it should have hurt, but all he felt was pleasure, all he felt was Ian. The day Ian complained about his biting and meant it, Mickey would stop, but he didn't think that day would ever come.

"I still don't understand it," Fiona said seriously.

"You don't have to."

Ian made it sound so simple, like there weren't a thousand different thoughts in Mickey's head and a hundred different emotions in his heart. He wasn't good at thinking and he wasn't good at feeling, normally this would have been when he bolted for it, but it was like the sound of Ian's voice was keeping him pressed down into the bed, rooted in place.

And what was more, he didn't really  _want_  to run. Not this time. Not ever again. Not unless Ian was with him.

Fiona left a few minutes later and Mickey was still lying on his back with his eyes screwed shut when Ian came into the room. The redhead climbed over him, lying down on the bed and touching Mickey's arm almost tentatively.

It took a few minutes for Mickey to be able to calm his suddenly erratic breathing and Ian let him have them without complaint. When the ex-con finally looked at him sideways, Ian spoke.

"She just came here to complain that I was never home," he said, shrugging, "Wanted to know if I was going to stay here or if I was going to come back eventually." Mickey didn't say anything because he could hear Ian gearing up to say something, like the punch line to a joke, except both of them were deadly serious. "So I figured I was going to stop by and get some things," Ian said, staring up at the ceiling, trying to sound flippant, "Maybe all of it."

Mickey smirked because he could hear the nerves in Ian's voice, see him panicking in the way he was refusing to look at Mickey. "Oh is that so?" he asked, turning onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow and seeing how long it would take before Ian finally gave in and looked at him, "You planning on sticking around then?"

Ian shrugged, "Unless you want me to go?"

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

"Gallagher, does this look like I want you to go?" Mickey asked, pointing down at where his dick was tenting his boxers again. Ian finally looked over and followed Mickey's line of sight to his crotch. A grin broke out across his face.

"Want me to take care of that?" he asked, still trying to sound casual and still failing miserably.

Mickey snorted at the lame attempt at a line, "If you want me to keep you around, yeah, that'd be good."

Ian chuckled deep in his chest, the sound practically vibrating out of him and he rolled on top of Mickey, pressing their bodies together and making Mickey shiver with nothing but pure need. Ian pressed a stupid kiss to the tip of his nose and then a deep one on his lips to stop Mickey having the chance to complain. He ran his tongue over Mickey's bottom lip and he shivered again despite the almost overbearing heat.

He strained upwards to capture Ian's mouth, his fingers sliding behind the redhead's neck so that he couldn't escape and Mickey couldn't think why he had ever not wanted to do this. He felt like he'd missed out on so many vital moments when he could have been doing this, but he also couldn't help but think that maybe he could have kept Ian for longer, would have admitted he wanted to if he had just given in to the urge to kiss him. Because there had always been the urge, he'd just never had the courage to do that, never had the courage to let Ian in that much, because kissing meant emotions for Mickey and he hadn't wanted to let Ian think there was any chance of them existing. He trailed his tongue up the side of Ian's neck when they broke apart and he smiled at the moan that rattled out of the younger guy's throat.

Ian started marking his way down Mickey's body, biting his nipple and then trailing his tongue over his ribs, sucking up a mark on them. He pushed his fingers into Ian's short hair, moaning low in his chest ass Ian's tongue skimmed just along the waistband of his boxers. Mickey can't tear his eyes away as Ian mouths the head of his cock through the cotton, creating a dark wet patch on the fabric.

His fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and his breath felt too hot on Mickey's dick as he pulled them down and off, but Mickey can't think properly to even know how to complain. He didn't even want to complain.

Ian wasn't like Mickey when it came to blowjobs, he took his time, dragged it out. He swiped his tongue where Mickey's thigh met his groin and toyed gently with his balls, driving Mickey virtually insane before finally wrapping his lips around the head.

"Shit, Ian," Mickey dug his fingers into Gallagher's hair, too far gone already to think about being gentle. Every time Ian's tongue pressed hard against the vein on the underside of his dick, Mickey's hips bucked up involuntarily and the fucker knew that, which was exactly why he kept doing it repeatedly.

He didn't bother warning Ian, because he knew from the way the younger guy dug his fingers into Mickey's hipbones, pinning him in place with strength he shouldn't have possessed that Ian knew what was coming. Mickey came hard, harder than he had in a long time which he thought was stupid and he was pretty sure he blacked out for a minute, because there was just this space of time between Ian's throat contracting around his dick as he swallowed and Ian lying over him, their faces only inches apart that just didn't exist.

"Did you just black out?" Ian asked him, because he was annoying like that.

Mickey scowled, "Fuck off Gallagher before I knock  _you_  out." And it wouldn't be in a pleasant way either. Although he was getting to the point where he was wondering if he'd actually have it in him to punch Ian anymore.

Ian just grinned and pressed a kiss to the corner of Mickey's mouth, because somehow he just knew Mickey didn't mean a single insult he said anymore.


	21. Chapter 21

Kash left again, probably for good and this time Linda didn't even seem bothered. It probably had something to do with the fact that they'd all seen it coming from the moment he'd reappeared. He'd never even said why he'd shown up again, Mickey's guess was the guy had run out of money, but Ian wasn't so sure. He thought maybe Kash just wanted to check in on everything.

Mickey had looked like he was about to hit him when he first mentioned it, but all he'd done in the end was glare and ask, "You are fucking joking right?"

But no, no Ian hadn't been joking and that was why after a lot of persuasion – although Mickey would call it sexual bullying – he managed to cram Mickey into a half decent shirt and drag him over to his old home. He'd been asking for a while to get Mickey to come to dinner, but it took a whole eight months of almost non-stop pestering to get him to agree. And then in the end it was just easier to get him agree to be there for Christmas.

For an almost four-year-old, Lilly was a fucking genius, which it was pretty obvious she'd inherited from Lip. The level of her intelligence though made Mickey turn green on Christmas day, all with the words, "Daddy, you open a present," which hadn't been directed at Mickey. Ian hadn't known what he'd been supposed to say, he'd just looked at Mickey sort of helplessly and waited until the ex-con shrugged.

He couldn't work out what Mickey's expression meant, but he wasn't mad.

Lilly kept calling him Daddy for the rest of the day, like she was repeatedly testing that it was acceptable or something. Ian couldn't help the swell of pride in his stomach whenever she grinned at him and called him that, but he did feel a little guilty because it felt like he was stealing something from his brother.

Lilly woke them both up at half five, or rather woke Ian up and helped him carry all the presents from the living room into the bedroom so that Mickey didn't have to move from his face down position on the bed. It was only when the dog sat on his head that he actually moved into an upright position.

Their Christmas tree was a scabby sort of thing with random decorations Ian and Lilly had attempted to make rather than go out and buy some. It probably didn't help that the dog kept getting behind it and knocking the thing over, but Ian didn't think it looked that bad. His family had definitely had worse in the past that was for sure.

Ian had bought Mickey a new switchblade, simply because he couldn't think what the hell you bought Mickey Milkovich for Christmas. He hadn't been expecting anything in return, which was why he was surprised when Mickey dropped a hard package in his lap. It turned out to be a book that Ian had mentioned years ago when they were still teenagers as being his favourite and he already had a copy, but he intended to burn it as soon as possible.

To his surprise, Mickey didn't complain when Ian grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard, he just fidgeted about afterwards and looked nervous. He wasn't good at doing anything that would show his emotions and remembering that definitely showed emotions.

They'd bought Lilly a bike amongst other random things and some tennis balls that were half for her to throw at people and half for her to entertain the dog with so maybe he wouldn't chew up Ian's shoes again. The creature was smart enough to know that if it chewed up Mickey's stuff it was dead meat, which Ian thought was sort of typical, especially considering Mickey would never touch the dog. Lilly would probably gut him while he slept if he did.

He couldn't help but think of them as a little family as they sat there, Lilly at the end of the bed with the dog, throwing a tennis ball out into the living room and shouting loudly for Sid to bring it back, her usual doll clutched under her arm like it always was. Mickey and Ian sat side by side on the bed, their backs against the wall. Mickey was playing with his switch blade while Ian pretended to read the book he had, but was really watching Mickey out the corner of his eye.

"Stop fucking staring at me," the ex-con hissed under his breath eventually and Ian blushed a little.

"Don't want to," he replied, knowing even Mickey wouldn't kill him on Christmas. He wouldn't kill him at all, but Ian still wasn't stupid enough to piss him off. Only Lilly could get away with doing that.

Mickey snorted, "You're fucking weird, Gallagher."

"Ahh, but you love me anyway," Ian said and then yelped when Mickey grabbed one of his nipples and twisted hard, not even looking at him as he did it. He laughed after he'd yelped though and batted Mickey's hand away.

He managed to coax Mickey into the shower with the promise of a full cooked breakfast, but Lilly complicated things a little when she said she wanted pancakes and in the end they were late to the Gallaghers because it had turned into a competition between Ian and Mickey of who could flip a pancake the highest. Most of them had ended up on the floor and they'd then had to bath the dog because Mickey had spilt pancake mixture on him.

Lilly had just sat on the counter the entire time laughing at all of them.

Typically, Lilly had insisted on Sid coming to the meal with them, so they'd done their best to try and blow dry the dog with a hairdryer that had once been Mandy's. It was easier said than done since the dog started spinning in circles the moment you got the hairdryer anywhere near him and there'd been a mad dash around the house to try and grab hold of him when he took off running.

When they finally arrived at the Gallaghers, Debbie opened the door and frowned at them. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, noticing how red-faced they all were and they were both still panting. Lilly just laughed and pulled her hat down a little further to cover her ears.

"You don't even want to know," Ian told her, hugging her tight and saying, "Merry Christmas," in her ear.

Mickey just stood awkwardly behind Ian for the first ten minutes, grunting at people when they wished him a Merry Christmas and generally not doing a very good job of proving to people why the hell Ian loved him in the first place. Not that Ian cared in the slightest, because he kind of liked the fact that the Mickey he knew was different from the Mickey that the rest of the world saw.

Nobody quite knew why Frank had decided to turn up, no doubt it was the prospect of food, but nobody had the heart to tell him to fuck off either. So he stayed. Of course, it took Frank a good ten minutes to remember what he'd walked in on all those years ago, before that he just looked confused and a little scared about why the hell Mickey was there.

Ian's hand shook when he picked up the gravy and the entire table watched him try not to drop it. Everyone except Mickey and Lilly, who just inhaled their food like there was going to be no tomorrow, oblivious to everything except what was on their plates.

Even Mickey caught on to the awkward air though as Ian tried to steady his hand, determined to show his family that he could do it. They all watched and waited patiently and Ian sort of hated it because it was almost like they were waiting for him to fuck up.

He jumped a little bit when Mickey flicked him in the ear. "You planning on hurrying the hell up with that?" he asked, a smirk twisting his lips, but Ian knew was he was doing, "Or do you want to hold the gravy all fucking day?" It was maybe clear to the rest of the table what Mickey was doing when Ian's hand stopped shaking, but he wasn't sure they noticed. He didn't even notice until he handed the gravy over to Mickey. "I didn't say I wanted it," Mickey said, putting it back down as soon as he'd taken it and Ian rolled his eyes, kicking him under the table.

"What's that?" Lilly asked suddenly, pointing to the entranceway into the kitchen.

"That's mistletoe," Ian told her, "It's a Christmas thing, if you stand under it with someone it means you have to kiss them."

She frowned a little, "Why?"

"Christmas tradition," Lip answered, smiling at Lilly who looked confused as to why the hell he was talking to her, "Does anyone want any peas?" He held up the bowl as he spoke.

"Me," Lilly clapped her hands together.

"No!" Ian and Mickey both spoke together and Ian laughed while Mickey cracked a little bit of a smile.

Lilly pouted, "Pleeeease."

"We're not turning dinner into target practice," Ian told her, "You can throw a tennis ball at Daddy's head when we get home if you like."

Mickey punched him on the arm hard, but Ian just smirked.

They talked about random things while they ate, but for the most part Mickey stayed silent, just sitting there and eating. He'd already had seconds by the time Ian had finished his first plateful. "Don't give him broccoli," Mickey said suddenly, looking down the length of the table at Kev, "It makes him fucking stink."

They all looked at Kev who looked sort of sheepish as he pulled his hand out from underneath the table. It amazed Ian sometimes how observant Mickey could be while pretending he didn't notice anything.

As the day progressed, most of them got drunk and Lilly punched Liam in the eye making him cry, which of course made her laugh and that made everyone else concerned. Mickey didn't drink all that much, but he swayed a little bit when he stood, which Ian attributed to neither of them having had anything alcoholic in a while.

"You okay?" Ian asked, walking up to Mickey where he leant against the wall, hovering in between the kitchen and the living room. He had a cigarette trapped between two fingers and he blew smoke upwards when Ian came to stand in front of him.

"Bored," Mickey admitted after a minute, handing over the cigarette and taking it back once Ian had had a drag, "Kind of wishing I had some weed or something."

Ian snorted, "Why?"

He looked nervous, like he didn't want to admit to that, but either way he said, "Used to spent my Christmas' high with Mandy, every year." And that proved that he missed her, even though they never really talked about Mandy. She wasn't a taboo subject, they just didn't have a whole lot to say. Mickey obviously didn't know how to deal with the fact she wasn't ever going to come back and Ian still hated himself a little for not knowing how to help her.

Neither of them wanted to say either that they were sort of happy at the same time as they were sad, because this way they had Lilly.

"Oh," Ian said, because he didn't really know what else to say, "Kev probably has some weed if you really want some, I can ask."

Mickey shook his head, "Gallagher it's fine, your brother would probably only fucking condemn me for it anyway." He looked bitterly across the room at where Lip sat in the corner, smiling and laughing with Kev.

"Mick, he isn't going to do anything," Ian said softly, wanting to reach out and touch Mickey, but he didn't know how the ex-con would take that. He wasn't good at signs of affection anyway, he definitely wouldn't be in front of people. Even if they were Ian's family.

He just shrugged and muttered, "Whatever," before handing over what remained of the cigarette.

"Daddy, you have to kiss," Lilly shouted suddenly and Mickey looked over at her as Ian looked up at the mistletoe over their heads. He couldn't help the way he blushed.

"Lilly, you know –"

Ian didn't have time to finish his sentence because Mickey grabbed him by the back of the head and crushed their mouths together. He automatically clutched back at Mickey, digging his hands into Mickey's waist, slipping them under his shirt so that his fingertips could press into bare skin. Mickey's tongue was hot into his mouth, sliding over his as his fingers pushed into Ian's hair.

It didn't last long, or maybe it did, Ian didn't know really.

All he knew was that when they pulled apart, everyone was staring, they were both panting and all Mickey did was light up another cigarette and smirk. "What?" he asked nobody in particular and Ian rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot," he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to Mickey's jaw before the ex-con could bat him away. Ian decided then that that was the best Christmas he'd ever had, there wasn't really much contest if he was being honest.


	22. Chapter 22

One of Mickey's brothers turned up when Lilly was eight and Lilly stared at him with wide eyes, looking so much like Mandy that it made Iggy stop and frown and then he seemed to remember something.

He stared at Mickey when he spoke, "Joey said Mandy died."

And it summed up their family that it had taken Iggy this long to come back even though he knew that. "Yeah," Mickey said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Lilly climbed into Ian's lap, Sid sitting at their feet, like maybe Ian was the one that needed protecting here. He probably was actually if Mickey came to think about it.

"She looks like her," Iggy said stupidly, motioning to Lilly who scowled at him because she was a child who had no concept of fear.

"I know," Mickey replied simply, wondering what the hell his brother was doing there. None of the others had dropped by since Joey had turned up and he'd been hoping it would stay that way. He was hoping all of them were in jail or something by now.

There were a few minutes of awkward silence during which Ian fidgeted, the dog growled and Iggy scratched his balls. "Dad been back yet?" he asked eventually and Mickey took special care not to flinch.

He shook his head, "No."

"Fucker's probably dead then," Iggy muttered, obviously not giving two shits either way, "Joey and Nicky are in jail by the way, armed robbery." Mickey thought he was just trying to make conversation, because it was pretty obvious that Mickey didn't really care to know about his brothers. They had never been close, he'd only ever been close to Mandy.

"Cool," he muttered, "What the fuck you want anyway?"

Iggy shrugged, "Was passing through, thought I'd see if Dad was back."

"Well he's not."

Iggy left shortly after that and Mickey got the locks changed that afternoon so that his brothers couldn't just keep waltzing in and out of the house as they pleased with no forewarning at all. That was the fastest way for them to see something that Mickey didn't want them to know.

So far, him and Ian had managed to keep the fact that they were actually in some sort of relationship – that was what Ian called it anyway – on the down low. Only the Gallaghers and Linda knew to Mickey's knowledge. He thought the fact that nobody had tried to bash his head in was evidence that people didn't know. If the fact that they lived together didn't make people suspect, Mickey thought they were pretty much in the clear, because it wasn't like they were going to be making out in public or some stupid bullshit like that.

No, Mickey wasn't suicidal.

"Am I related to him?" Lilly asked, climbing off of Ian's lap once Iggy had left.

Mickey pulled a face. "Unfortunately," he replied, "But I like to pretend that we're not."

"He smelt bad," Lilly announced, her nose wrinkling slightly, grabbing the remote for the television, "Can I watch cartoons now?" Mickey didn't quite know why he laughed at that maybe it was because nothing really seemed to phase her.

It made him feel a little better when Ian cracked a smile as well.


	23. Chapter 23

Ian smiled at Debbie when he passed her in the corridor, but didn't have time to say anything. He was already late, but he thought that to be fair, he was allowed since he'd only found out he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. He'd come as soon as was humanly possible.

"Ian Gallagher," said a teacher who had taught him when he had been in school, Mr Rowland, who was now much older looking but his features still as severe.

He smiled and shook his hand, glancing around the room that didn't seem to have changed in the slightest since he had been taught there. Except that in the front row sat the newest generation of Milkovich. Lilly was fifteen, her hair dark and streaked through with lime green at the front, her expression guilty looking as she sank down in her seat. She looked even more like her mother now, complete with the sense of style – much to Mickey's annoyance. Some days they considered not letting her out of the house dressed like she was, but they both knew she'd only climb out of the window.

Today she was dressed in a barely there miniskirt, a tight fitting red top under her leather jacket and steel-toed army boots. Her nails were painted blood red to match her top and eyeliner was thick around her eyes, but she didn't wear as much makeup as Mandy had used to. There were dark smudges across her knuckles which seemed to be a permanent attribute.

Like Mickey, like any Milkovich, she was a fighter.

She rubbed her thumb across her bottom lip when she realised he was staring at her, watching for the guilty expression he knew would never appear on her face. It never did, it never would. He just looked for it anyway out of habit.

"Did you join the army in the end?" Mr Rowland asked, his smile putting even more lines on his face.

Ian nodded, "Yeah, but I wasn't in for long, got injured."

He could feel his old teacher looking him up and down and searching for some sort of injury, but that was okay because he was used to the question being asked now. "It isn't bad, my hand just shakes," he said, holding up the hand in question, which still shook slightly, but he didn't focus on it so much anymore, he hardly even noticed.

"Well at least you got to serve your country for a short while," the older man said and then a frown crumpled up his forehead a little, "What can I do you for anyway? I'm afraid I'm a little bit busy at the moment, I'm waiting for a parent."

Ian nodded and looked at Lilly, "Yes, well that would be me."

Lilly sank down a little further in her seat.

"I'm sorry, but it has to be a parent of the student," Mr Rowland said, looking confused, "I rang Mr Milkovich requesting for him to come here, should have known he would only try to send someone in his place, that boy never did like turning up to school no matter what the reason."

Ian couldn't help but smirk slightly. "Sounds about right," he muttered, "But Mick was planning on coming, but he got waylaid a bit."

"What did he do this time?"

He almost laughed at how well Lilly knew her Dad.

"Bar fight," he said, shrugging a little, "Someone hit him pretty hard in the head so he's asleep at home."

"He did win though right?"

Ian smirked, "Course, if he'd lost he would be dead." Not that that was an alternative that either of them wanted to think about for too long. He knew that his own expression probably mirrored the one that he saw on Lilly's face.

"Are you a close family friend then?" Mr Rowland asked, looking unsurprised that Mickey had gotten into a fight, "I think I remember you dated Mickey's sister Mandy for a while, yes?" The man had a good memory, Ian would give him that.

Lilly of course, who hadn't known that, looked at him in surprise. "You dated Mandy?"

He could feel the blush creeping onto his cheekbones, "Fake dated." The fake part had made all of the difference as far as he was concerned, even if they had acted as though they were a real couple down to the very last detail without actually ever having to have had sex.

"Like making things complicated, don't you?" Lilly said, snorted and stretching her legs out, crossing them at the ankles, "Can we like do this shit already so I can go? Not that I'm not loving your company or anything."

"Watch your language," Ian said pointlessly, sitting down next to her at one of the little desks, feeling weird as he had to fold his overlong limbs in.

Lilly pulled a face at him.

"I trust that this is going to be passed along to Mr Milkovich," Mr Rowland said, looking unsure. Ian thought it sounded weird hearing someone call Mickey that, it sounded more formal that Mickey was ever going to be.

"If I can get him to listen yeah," Ian said truthfully, "Although, to be honest all he'll do is laugh, so it's better having me here anyway." Lilly obviously didn't think so because no doubt she would prefer having Mickey there to laugh than Ian there to scold.

Mr Rowland actually seemed to see the logic in what Ian had just said. He sighed and sat down on the edge of his desk. "The fact of the matter is Mr Gallagher, Lilly's tendency to fight is getting a little out of control," he glared at Lilly and she just snorted, a true Milkovich, "And we are running out of ways that we can try and curb the habit."

"What did you do now?" Ian asked, looking sideways at the girl he loved more than anything. He loved her on par with Mickey, would die for her without a single moment's hesitation. But even he could see that she did have a tendency of jumping in fists first.

"Threw a golf ball at Randy Lawson's head," she said matter-of-factly, like it wasn't unusual to carry a golf ball around in your pocket so that you could throw it at someone who pissed you off, "He deserved it though, promise."

Ian rolled his eyes,  _of course he did_. "Why?"

"He was making fun of Tommy Bishop, telling him he was gay," Lilly said, shrugging again and pushing her tongue into the corner of her mouth, "So I threw the ball at him, he deserved it."

He sighed and rolled his eyes because Lilly always thought it was her job to be the knight in shining armour for someone. She wasn't quite like Mickey in that she didn't pick fights for no reason, but the reason didn't have to be anything overly dramatic for her to start the fight.

"Lil, you have to let people fight their own battles sometimes," he said, staring at her and finding it impossible to stop himself from smiling.

She just shrugged, "If I promise to consider it, can I go?"

Ian looked over at Mr Rowland and raised his eyebrows. He knew probably better than anyone that they weren't going to get any results out of this conversation. Lilly wasn't going to change, he didn't particularly want her to.

"It's a good thing you're smart, let me tell you," Mr Rowland muttered under his breath as Lilly bounced to her feet, the grin on her face letting the whole world know that she'd just won this argument. If it could really even be called an argument.

"Can we have ribs for tea tonight?" Lilly asked before she walked out.

Ian pulled a face, he hated watching them eat ribs, the way that her and Mickey demolished them was sort of sickening. And they both knew it as well. "If we have to," he muttered, because he couldn't resist the wide eyed way she was staring at him.

"Love you Daddy," she said, straining up to press a kiss to his cheek.

Ian just rolled his eyes and muttered, "Love you too," even though she'd already disappeared out of the room.

Mr Rowland stared at him, obviously confused as to the title of 'Daddy'. Ian just shrugged, "It's a long story." And then he walked out because he didn't see the sense in elaborating on that anymore, it wasn't really Mr Rowland's business.

It was anybody's business except his, Mickey's and Lilly's.

Mickey was still flat out on the bed on his front of when he got home and Ian rolled his eyes, climbing up onto the bed and straddling his back like they were still teenagers. Nothing had really changed, they hadn't really changed. Mickey was still impulsive and violent, refusing to admit to emotions or feelings and he still swore far too much. Ian was still ginger, still talked too much and had a weird as hell family. But it worked. They didn't need to change, they didn't want to.

"Please tell me you don't have a concussion," he said as he bent forwards and pressed a kiss to the back of Mickey's neck. He knew Mickey was awake, could tell with the difference in his breathing and the absence of snores.

Mickey twisted his head slightly, his eyes opening so he could glare at Ian. There was still blood on one side of his face where his lip had split. "Milkovich's don't do concussions," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow, "Our heads are too hard."

"Or you're just to fucking stubborn," Ian muttered back, yelping slightly when Mickey flipped them so that he lay pinned to the bed underneath Mickey. After the initial shock though, he just settled back into the pillows.

"How was the meeting with Mr whatever?" Mickey asked randomly, his fingers pushing patterns into Ian's skin, nothing about his movements gentle, but they didn't need to be. Ian didn't want them to be.

He shrugged as well as he could while being pinned to the bed. "It was the usual," he said, watching as Mickey pushed his tongue into the corner of his mouth in that way he always did, "They told her to stop fighting as much, she basically told them to fuck off."

"Sounds about right," Mickey muttered before bending down and pressing their mouths together. The desire that crackled between them was still insatiable, just the way that Ian hoped it would always stay.

Just the way he liked it.


	24. Chapter 24

The day Lilly brought home a boy for the first time, she was sixteen and neither Ian or Mickey had been expecting it. They had actually been taking advantage of the fact that Lilly had said that she would be out all day to fit in some unashamed alone time, where they didn't have to keep quiet.

Unfortunately, they never really reached that part.

Mickey had Ian pinned to the sofa, thumbing the bumps of Ian's spine and making the redhead arch up into him. They were joined at the mouth and at the hips, grinding against each other in that lazy sort of way they'd developed, when they knew there wasn't really any real rush because they had forever to do this. Not they either of them had admitted to knowing that this would be forever.

The redhead moaned as Mickey sucked on his tongue and bit his lower lip and they heard someone splutter out a cough at the same time as someone else snorted and Lilly said, "Yeah, they didn't really get the memo that having kids meant you're supposed to calm the fuck down."

Mickey propped himself up onto his elbows and looked sideways at their daughter, slightly distracted by the way Ian was still tracing patterns on his ribs with his fingertips. "Who the fuck's that?" he asked, glaring at the boy standing beside Lilly that he'd never seen before.

"Don't be rude," Lilly snapped back, forever a Milkovich, "This is Josh, he's like my boyfriend now or some shit."

Ian had to grab Mickey as he launched himself at the newcomer. He slammed him into the floor, scrabbling for control and wincing when Mickey's fist caught him in the gut. The rolled and Ian punched Mickey in the face when pinning him down wasn't really working out.

"So we're just going to go back out," Lilly said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder and grabbing Josh's hand. Her boyfriend – or some shit – was standing stunned, watching the fight on the floor and Mickey knew the fucker was thinking that it was weird how they weren't holding back at all.

Especially since they'd been making out not two minutes ago.

As soon as the teenagers left, Mickey forgot he was supposed to be fighting, turned on by the slither of pain in his cheek and in the knowledge that this was how it all started. The bruising fists turned into rough gropes as he pulled Gallagher back down so that he could kiss him again.

Four months later when Mickey came home to find Lilly crying in her room, Ian had to tackle him from behind when the ex-con turned up to the school with a baseball bat, fully intending to bash the fucker Josh's brains in.

People watched and stared as Ian tried to pin Mickey down against the concrete floor and the guy Josh looked like he was about to piss himself. Mickey stopped fighting when Lilly's best friend Toby punched the guy Mickey wanted to kill in the face. Toby was scrawny, a little too tall, with jet black hair and too green eyes. He kind of looked like Harry Potter, just minus the glasses and the scar. He wasn't a bad kid, he was a little dorky though.

He kind of reminded Mickey of Ian at that age.

Two weeks after that, Toby and Lilly were dating and Mickey didn't really mind it as much as everybody had expected him to. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he knew Toby better, or maybe it was just because he knew where Toby lived.

-000-

"So are you ever going to marry Dad?" Lilly asked, dropping down beside Mickey on the couch and sticking her feet in his lap.

Mickey just stared at her, wondering whether or not he was hearing things. He wanted to pretend he was, but that wasn't really possible. "Why the fuck you asking me that?" he asked instead, because he didn't know how to answer that.

She shrugged, "Was just wondering."

"Marriage is really fucking gay," he muttered, like that explained it all. And in Mickey's brain, it did.

Lilly snorted, "News flash, Dad, you are gay."

He pulled a face at her, "No shit, I hadn't worked that one out."

"Do you always have to be a dick?" she asked, like they weren't father and daughter and were instead best friends. Maybe they were as well. Or maybe they were just too similar and knew that to them, swear words were about the same as saying 'I love you'.

"Yeah actually, I do."

She rolled her eyes in the way that made her look ridiculously like Mandy.

"So are you?" she asked, twisting around in a way that had to be painful so she could keep her feet in his lap at the same time as she rested her head on his shoulder. She could be weird like that.

He didn't fight her as she took his cigarette out of his hand and grimaced at her when she blew smoke in his face. "Probably not," he admitted, because he wasn't sure whether or not that was the right answer, "Do you want us to?"

Lilly smirked. "Dad, I really don't give a shit," she said, pushing her tongue into the corner of her mouth and giving him his cigarette back, "I was just wondering, because you know, you've been together for like ages and it is legal and shit."

Mickey just shrugged. He'd never thought about it.

"It doesn't seem like that long actually," he admitted, not knowing why he was saying that. It sounded like something Ian would say, not him. Maybe it was because it was Lilly and he hadn't ever really drawn any lines when it came to her, even as a baby, she'd just crashed through all of his barricades.

"Don't you have a dog to walk?" he asked when she didn't say anything, pointing to the kind of elderly mongrel now who sat near the door. Sid's eyes were sleepy looking, but they brightened at the prospect of a walk.

Mickey knew it wasn't a good thing to think, but he knew the dog wasn't going to live for much longer. He didn't want to think about how much of a mess Lilly would be when he died. She actually adored the mangy thing.

"Yeah," she admitted, kissing his cheek at the same time as she ruffled his hair, "I'm staying at Toby's tonight by the way."

He pulled a face, but didn't argue. Ian had already given him a lecture about how it only made it worse when he argued. "Kay," he muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette, which by now was almost completely burnt out.

In the end, they didn't get married. Mickey never even brought up the subject. Because he knew it wasn't necessary. It wasn't because he was stupid or gay or because Mickey really wasn't the sort of person to want to get married. He would have said yes if Ian would have asked him. But Ian never did, because like Mickey he knew that they didn't need a piece of paper or some shitty vows to let them know that they were it.

The bruises on Mickey's hips that seemed to have become permanent and the bite shaped scar on Ian's shoulder that Mickey liked to kiss or lick sometimes, they were just as effective as wedding bands. And besides, Mickey's vows only would have come out like insults anyway and Mickey dished them out every single day.

They both knew that they were really supposed to be compliments. That they were really supposed to be love confessions. That was all that counted at the end of the day. Or in Mickey's mind at least.

Then again, Mickey's mind didn't really work like the rest of the world's did. But that was okay. Ian always knew what he meant.


End file.
